Don't Drink The Water
by RocketBooster
Summary: When suspicions confirm that there’s a traitor in Camp Freedom, Scream and His Squad fight to save a comrades life.Warning for adult language, situations and Hunter's big mouth.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter One

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a comrades life.

A/N: Lieutenant Hunter is still amongst the living in the beginning of this tale...

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

A Small Village outside Baqubah, Iraq 

Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah was not a happy man; he was downright bitter and had been that way for most of his life. Many years earlier, he accepted that he was simply an unlucky man forsaken by Allah, and as a Muslim, not believing in the concept of karma, he believed he'd live out the rest of his days as in very much the same way.

That was until he found himself suddenly charged with a mission, a rare opportunity to not only serve his family, his country, his people, but a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of Allah.

He would perform this simple task asked of him. He would help strike deep into the heart of the infidel, and while it was possible that he might die in the attempt, at least he would depart this world as a Martyr, knowing he would be guaranteed the right to enter heaven and partake of all that paradise had to offer.

Sergeant Christopher Silas sat in the front passenger seat of the hot and rather rank smelling Humvee, his window rolled all the way down despite the heat of the day. He looked very much like a Labrador or some other large breed of dog, with his dark head hanging out of the window and his mouth open as he tried to breathe in as much fresh air as he could. On the other side of the seat Dim was doing the same, while Angel stood guard up top with his rifle locked and loaded, ready if need be, but mostly because the rear windows refused to budge.

It had been a simple task really; just a quick trip to Baqubah's main drag to serve eviction papers, something they'd been called upon to do before, the last time being the visit to the small orphanage in the center of town. He hadn't been back there since, or at least not since the night he'd spent with Sophie; he hadn't even gone with Angel and Tariq when they'd brought the young boy from Barak to stay with her until a permanent home could be found for him.

Dawud, that had been the boys' name. He'd told himself he'd make it back there to check on him, maybe even to see how Sophie and the children were doing, but he hadn't and he wasn't exactly sure why that was.

The trip would have been a breeze were it not for the three goats that had decided to seek shelter from the brutal Iraqi sun in the back seat of the Humvee, which they'd done with the assistance of several small children, who'd realized that the latch on the back door of the vehicle hadn't totally closed. The children laughed and jumped up and down on the dirt roadway as the soldiers attempted to pressure the barnyard beasts into leaving by banging on a side window with all the doors open. However the only thing they succeeded in doing was frightening the animals, so much so, that they'd been unable to hold their water or control their bowels.

"Geez!" Dim said for about the fifth time, his face reddened from the sun." What a stink!"

Silas didn't reply; he'd been traveling down old memory lane, the stench from the goats reminding him of a trip to the Long Island Game Farm with Mrs. Karl's second grade class. The camel had spit at Mrs. Karl and the llama had thrown up on his best friend Jimmy. Jimmy had been quite the celebrity for four whole days.

Coming down thru the hills they could see Camp Freedom laid out below them; what once had been an old military airstrip surrounded by earthen berms and barbed wire was now a small city of tents and outbuildings sitting against a desert landscape. That had been back when it bore the name 'Camp Warhorse' and the 2nd Brigade Combat Team, nicknamed the 'Warhorse Brigade', had achieved many significant accomplishments during its deployment. The 'Warhorse Brigade' had

Assisted in establishing an interim government and helped rebuild the provincial legal system, essentially spearheading the coalition mission in the area. But inSeptember of 2004, as part of an Army-wide effort to give its facilities friendlier sounding names, Camp Warhorse was renamed Camp Freedom I or as it was known in Arabic, "Camp Al-Hurya Al-Awal".

Now it was being further transformed into an elaborate copy of its sisters and brothers across Iraq, and soon there would be a several indoor stores built just outside the Morale, Welfare, and Recreation facility where his fellow soldiers could buy fake watches, five dollar "Ray Ban" sunglasses that would fall apart two days later and illegally copied DVDs, even though AAFES repeatedly stated that the selling of "knockoff" merchandise was _not_ authorized. Then, when they'd finished their shopping they'd be able to eat in the Pizza Hut or Burger King.

Scream looked down at the area where the new construction was being planned and shook his head. A day at the mall, in helmets and full body armor; how exciting, how truly strange.

Dim shook his head. "Make's you think about priorities, doesn't it Sergeant?"

"Dim, right now all I'm thinking about is whether you've figured out that the accelerator is on the right! Now shut up and get this goddamned heap of shit moving!" he yelled before hanging his head back out of the window.

* * *

Captain Baron's Command Tent  
Camp Freedom  
01000 

SSGt 'Scream' Silas sat in an uncomfortable canvas chair hoping his attempts to move his ass into a more comfortable position didn't look anything like the other officers and NCO's who were conspicuously squirming in their seats. It amazed him that the ARMY Corps of Engineers could move earth and water, build levees, plan and design buildings, operate dams, build locks and carve the intracoastal out of some old swamp land in Florida, yet somehow no one in the ARMYcould construct a comfortable chair.

Scream listened as Captain Baron outlined the objectives of their impending mission to catch a group of insurgents who had been targeting government buildings in and around Baqubah, with the primary goal of general destruction and disruption of the new interim government's occupation, and of course, the chance to shoot a few desert camflouge wearing infidels only sweetened the pot.

Despite several well-planned raids, the group of 30 or so insurgents, at first laughingly nicknamed "KAOS", had avoided capture several times. Yesterday they had received word from command regarding rumors that the group would attempt to bomb a mosque in Baqubah; and not just any mosque, but one of the oldest and largest mosques in the surrounding area and considered _a holier then holy_ place. Those higher up in the food chain expected this to happen sometime in the next 36 hours. Four units would be charged with guarding and defending the Mosque while the other units advanced on the nearby town where KAOS was thought to be building and stashing their weapons. Another unit would be waiting somewhere between the on the road into Baquabah and hopefully prevent them from entering the town and capture as many insurgents as possible.

Listening with one ear, Silas surreptiously looked around at the other men assembled. He acknowledged a quick nod from Lieutenant Lapus, a slight grin from Seargent First Class Hutchinson, and then glancing just a shade to the right,he spied Lieutenant Hunter. The lieutenant's long torso was stuffed into his chair; his feet were flat on the ground and his long legs bent in what had to be a most painfully uncomfortable position.

Scream chuckled to himself and turned his full attention back to the Captain,

now handing a stack of maps to Corporal St. Claire, who began to pass through the crowded tent. He looked down at the map he was holding in his hands and specifically at a small shaded area, supposedly a small village just outside of Baqubah, and was momentarily confused. Looking up, he saw several other confused parties. He saw Lieutenant Lapus shake his head and then called out, "Excuse me, Captain, sir?"

"Lieutenant?"

"Uh…sir, this map...how recent is it?"

"According to intelligence, the map and the surveillance photo you're being given is approximately 48 hours old."

Lapus nodded. "Sir, I'm not familiar with….."

"Yes, Lieutenant? " Baron asked.

"Well sir, I know this area quite well but, I am not familiar with the location of the village depicted here." Several others murmured their assent.

"I wasn't familiar with it myself, gentlemen." Baron replied, looking from one side of the tent to the other. "I'm told the village is located in a shielded low -lying area and was simply never picked up by us before. "

Silas watched as Lapus responded to Baron, then sat back stiffly in his chair. He could tell that despite the C.O.'s response, Lapus was not satisfied.

"Sergeant Silas, you're team will be doing guard duty." Baron stated with a quick glance over at Lieutenant Hunter, who's face clearly showed what he thought of

_that_ particular task. "It will be your task to make sure that Mosque is safe."

"Three and four, you'll be infiltrating the village." Baron continued." Lieutenants Lapus and Howell's teams will attempt to stop any insurgent activity they see on the road entering the city limits. Make sure your people know the drill and what is expected of them. I want full body armor on every one of them."

He looked at his men closely before saying," If there are no more questions, you are all dismissed." A moment later the loud sound of chairs scraping, loud voices, and heavy boots plodding across thin sheets of plywood filled the tent as everyone headed towards the exit. Silas was about to exit himself when he heard Baron's raised voice "Sergeant Silas? A moment of your time, please."

Silas turned back and nodded, stepping sideways and leaning against the side of the tent to allow his fellow soldiers to pass him, before walking over to the Captain's table and asking, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Baron sat down behind the table that served as his desk and pointed to the chair on the opposite side. "Have a seat, Sergeant, I wouldn't keep you long. I know you have a lot to do before we leave tonight."

"Yes sir," the Sergeant said, lowering himself into yet another uncomfortable chair, sitting silently, and waiting for the Captain to speak. When Baron continued to look directly at him but made no effort to speak, the Sergeant cleared his throat and asked, "Uh, sir? Is there something wrong?"

Baron looked around the now empty tent and expelled a long breath. "Sergeant, I…well I don't quite know how to ask this, so I'll just ask your opinion straight out. Sergeant is it, uh…possible that one of the men in this camp could be a ……." He sighed again. "You know everything that goes on around here, you hear the rumors."

Silas nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Shit," Baron said. "Sergeant…could someone possibly have given confidential information to someone outside this base?" Baron said in a rush, just wanting to get the words out and never have to do it again.

Silas's head jerked back as though he'd been slapped across the face with incredible force, a look of shock crossed his features and a soft "Huunh" sound came from deep in his chest. "Captain, excuse me, but are you asking if one of our men, my men, could be … spying for the enemy?" The question tinged with not only a little anger.

Baron leaned against the back of his chair and blew a stream of air thru his lips.

"I'm sorry I even had to ask you, Sergeant, but this comes from Command, not me, and I've already had this conversation with most of my officers. Like I said, I'm asking you because I know that you see and hear a lot of what goes on here. The men trust you, not only your men but all of them."

"Look…I can't imagine any of my men being a spy, but the higher ups seem to feel that we have a leak somewhere since KAOS seems to know exactly when we're coming and where we're going and how to avoid us. They feel that someone privy to the information is helping them out and personally, I think it's a load of horseshit!"

"I agree with you on that, sir."

"Again, I'm sorry to have to have asked."

Silas nodded.

"Alright, thank you sergeant. This conversation remains in this tent."

"Oh course, sir."

"Fine, you're dismissed, Sergeant."

Silas stood and with a nod to his commanding officer, turned and quickly left the tent, then strode across the dusty compound and towards his own barracks, which he found to be empty.

The Captains question made him feel ill at ease; was it possible that someone, that one of his fellow soldiers, or one of his own men, could be passing information to the insurgents? Could someone he knew and trusted, be a spy?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Two

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Fire Team Death Street Barracks  
0100 

Frank 'Dim' Dumphy's sat on his bunk, his face hidden behind the latest edition of Star & Stripes, and judging from the frequent rustling of pages, combined with several punctuated grunts and an occasional rant about a contributor's intelligence,  
it was apparent that he was not happy. The other inhabitants of the tent braced themselves for Dim's next diatribe.

It came quickly enough as Dim tossed the newspaper down on his bunk with a growl. "I just don't believe this!" he snapped, then glanced upward at the rest of his squad sitting together on the other side of the tent.

"What's the matter, Dim?" Tariq replied with a grin. "They stop making the Chili Con Carne M.R.E?"

"And not a moment to soon," Angel quipped, making Smoke and Tariq laugh. They well remembered the last time their friend had eaten said M.R.E and felt the need to share the experience with the entire squad.

"No." Dim said with a pained expression. "Listen to this! 'A report obtained by the Associated Press says that K.B.R failed to protect the water supply it is paid to purify for U.S. soldiers throughout Iraq, and in one instance, missed contamination that could have caused mass sickness or death. This occurred because KBR failed to assemble and use its own water purification equipment, thus allowing contaminated water directly from the Euphrates River to be used for washing and laundry at Camp Ar Ramadi, where contaminated water was found in several commodes."

"Can you believe that?" Dim continued. "How do you neglect to ensure your people have fresh water? "He waved the paper at the other men who simply carried on with what ever activities they were engaged in. "Doesn't this bother any of you? He asked.

"No! "Smoke retorted."

"Well I should know better then to ask an _intelligent_ question of you of all people, but why the hell doesn't it?"

Smoke gave Dim a withering look. "Coz' I don't drink out the toilet." He rolled his eyes, then rolled over on his bunk, putting his back to everyone.

Dim looked at Angel, who was chuckling at Smoke's comment and shook his head.

"This really bothers me. We sit in the dirt day after day fighting for our country, and our own government, isn't looking out for us."

Tariq placed the weapon he was cleaning on the deck and stretched. "You just figure that out, Dim? Look at who's in charge of making sure the water was purified. You don't have to be a genius to figure out why K.B.R got the contract, or why the hell Halliburton is the chief contractor for everything in this war."

"Its political bureaucratic bullshit and priorities-" Dim began.

"Hell, no, man, "Tariq commented softly. "You're confusing politics with greed; it's greed that feeds all of these things, plain and simple; corporate and personal greed."

"That's not what this is supposed to be about, it's supposed to be about protecting our country, protecting our way of life. " Dim replied.

"Well, we all came here with visions of doing something noble especially after 9-11." Tariq said. "But I know back home on the top floor of some fancy office building, someone in power is thinking about how much money they're making or losing on us. "

Angel nodded. "Its not the first time some government contractor got paid for _not_ doing their job and that soldiers suffered for it. And it does bother me, Dim. I'm just not getting all upset about it, because it's not going to change anything thing and personally I think worrying about protecting _ourselves_ is on the top of the list."

"See? Now there's something that bothers me! "Tariq spoke angrily. "It bothers me that there isn't enough money to make sure every single American soldier fighting here, has full body armor. Or that they threaten to take away our combat pay, when we're here sacrificing ourselves."

Dim shook his head. "It pisses me off that I came all the way here to fight for my country when back home in the States there are people who couldn't give a shit about us and think its wrong that we're here." Dim was silent for several minutes. "Maybe they're right. I mean, sometimes I wonder if I belong here and if what we're doing is right……" he trailed off.

Angel drew in a deep breath. "Dim? I got family who don't understand why I'm here, how I can shoot at other people, or how I can be a part of all the death and destruction that happens here. But I believe in what I'm doing. I believe there's a reason why I'm here. And I'm not talking about faith and being a believer either". He grinned. "I'm talking about having the strength of your convictions and letting that carry you. If you still believe in that noble thought that brought you here, Bro, then you don't let anyone take that away from you."

"Right," Tariq said softly. "I love my country as much as you do and I believe in fighting against terrorism, about keeping our country safe. But for now I have to worry about myself and our squad, do my job and don't let that shit get to me. It's not wrong to be angry about it, it's just…."

"A waste of time, "Dim said. He sighed and picked up his newspaper, folding it gently, and slipped it under his arm before reaching down for his gas mask. "See you guys in a bit," he said. "Lunch just kicked in."

He was almost out the doorway when Smoke called out "Hey Dim-wit!"

"What!" Dim asked, as he turned around.

"Don't drink the water."

"Asshole!" Dim snapped as he turned and exited the tent, the sound of laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Silas slid his mess tray along the waist high metal track, watching as the Malaysian attendant slid her ungloved hand beneath her worn hairnet and vigorously scratched her scalp before reaching down to grab a roll which she in turn plopped onto Silas's tray. The hand disappeared behind her back for several moments, and then traveled up to her face where it moved back and forth beneath her nose for a count of six before grabbing an over-done burger and placing that on his tray, as well. He continued to push the tray along until he reached the end of the line and tossed the entire tray of food into the trash can, while considering the current M.R.E menu. 

"You wasting good food Sergeant? **For shame**! " A voice boomed in his ear. Silas turned to see Lieutenant Lapus standing behind him, smiling and nodding toward the other mans discarded lunch. Reaching out his arm over the trash can he turned his tray over as well and then smiled. "I don't know about you Sergeant, but watching someone serve me food with a hand that's just scratched their god-knows-what, turns me off. Come on. We'll go grab a couple of m.r.e's." he said clapping Silas on the shoulder and pushing him towards the exit.

Sitting in back of the supply tent on hard sandbags, using their folded BDU jackets for cushions, they proceeded to eat their lunch under the shade of a makeshift awning which had been constructed by the contracted workers in the camp laundry, which was right next to the supply tent. The smell of laundry detergent and bleach wafted on the air, but it wasn't unpleasant and it did nothing to taint the taste of the Grilled Beefsteak with mushroom gravy MRE they were both digging into.

"So…." Lapus drawled. "The Duke mention anything to you about a possible spy in our midst?"

Staff Sergeant Silas's nose had been buried in his chow, but his head immediately, jerked upward. "I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that, sir?" he said responding respectfully _and _cautiously.

"Yeah, yeah, don't give me any of that 'sir' shit, Chris. I know you, and you know me; I was stuck in the shit and you pulled my ass out, so if I trust anyone, it's gonna be you."

"Is this off the record, sir?"

Lapus groaned loudly and smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. "Holyshh- Yeah! It's off the record, sergeant! Jeez-us!"

"I find it very hard to believe that one of our own guys could be giving information to the enemy, okay? I know it's not one of _mine." _Silas said in a gruff voice. "I don't know about anyone else, but I don't believe one of our people could be involved in something that could get the rest of us killed!"

"We're talking about treason here."

"Yeah.

"Chris? Off the record? Watch your back. Tell your team to watch their backs, but only once you're certain none of them are involved."

Silas peered closely at the other man. "John, what the fuck are you trying to say? You goddamned think-"

"No! No, no, no way man, absolutely not, I'm just saying….Oh Fucking hell, I **_will _**kill you if you repeat this! "

"Okay."

"They put Hunter on this. Fucking Hunter of all people, you know?"

Silas nodded.

"He's got his eye on your squad."

"My squad?" Silas growled.

"Yeah….give you two guesses who."

Silas shook his head and said " Gotta be Smoke, guaran-godamn-tee it! He's been looking to bust Smoke's ass anyway he can, but I have no idea who else- "

"S'not Smoke, man. "

"Then who-"

"You got an Iraqi in your squad." Lapus replied.

"Tariq! No fucking-way! No. Not Tariq, okay? He came all the way here to fight for his country, _his country_ being the United States of America!" Silas stood up and began to pace. "That sonofabitch!"

"Apparently Hunter has an axe to grind with him, or something. Made a comment like how the hell are we supposed to know what these "foreigners' are saying, could be talking subversive, could be telling us they're saying one thing when they're saying another? Hell! He's got a problem with Howell for Christ's sake! Howell only knows two phrases! Yes, sir and No, Sir. If the guy _shit_ hard enough his brains would end up swirling down the damned bowl! But, his mother's Iranian."

"So its gonna be Hunters personal witch hunt."

Lapus nodded and began wadding up the bits of left over packaging from his MRE and stuffed them into the large pouch, then stopped and faced Silas. "Chris? Its not just Hunter. Baron assigned me, too."

Silas stared at the other men for several minutes, then nodded. "S'O.K, You'll be fair, I know that. And I appreciate you giving me the heads up."

Lapus nodded. "I told you. I owe you, "he said, then told a deep breath."Well, back to the grind. We got a big night ahead of us." Lapus said grabbing his BDU jacket. Silas grabbed his own and the two men began to walk back into the center of Camp.

Lapus turned toward the command tent, but stopped after a few steps and turned around to face the sergeant, "Remember what I said."

"Yes, sir."

Lapus shook his head. "Fuckin' wise-ass! You watch your ass tonight. Don't get dead. That's a fucking order. "


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Three

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Captain Baron's Command Tent  
0200 Hours 

"I want to know what the FUCK happened out there!" Captain James Baron screamed at those assembled in his command tent. They were dirty, sweaty, and bloodied from their attempts to keep the Baqubah Mosque out of KAOS's hands, but had been unsuccessful. Now, at 0:200 hours, Baron was beyond upset. He was enraged, and no one could ever remember seeing their commanding officer so angry.

"Sonaofa-….What the FUCK happened out there!" Baron screamed at the assembled officers and NCOs, so angrily that he was incapable of completing words. "No one is leaving this ga -goddamned tent until I. GET. SOME. ANSWERS!"

"They knew we were coming, sir." Lieutenant Hunter answered, while the rest of the tents' inhabitants quickly dropped their heads, averted their eyes, swallowed hard, and braced for the assault.

"They knew we were coming! NO? You think _so_ Lieutenant Hunter?" Baron yelled,

his voice thick with sarcasm and the veins in his neck sticking out all too prominently. "What gave you that idea? Christ! I'd call you an idiot Lieutenant, but it'd be an insult to stupid people!"

Hunter quickly looked down at his lap as though he'd found something of infinite interest there, and pressed his lips tightly together as if doing so would prevent him from speaking again.

"Lieutenant Lapus?" Baron asked in a raspy voice. Perhaps you have an idea of what exactly transpired from your position?"

Lapus stood up; he was wearing gauze wrapped around a head wound he had received when he was struck with flying debris and it was apparent that it was still bleeding, as there was a slight trickle of blood down his left cheek.

"Sir, my team and that of Lieutenant Howell's were placed on either side of the road into Baqubah as ordered and on Lieutenant Howell's suggestion, we posted several men along the road just above the small village noted on the map; we were thinking we might catch anyone escaping the village when teams three and four did their door to door search. But we never saw anyone on the road sir, going into the village or out of it! When we saw the explosion in the village, I sent a few men in to see if they could assist them, but……" He trailed off, his chin dropped down onto his chest. "They were already dead, or severely injured. Sir."

Baron nodded. "Sergeant Hutchinson left on a medevac sometime ago and I was unable to speak with him due to the severity of his injuries. However, one of his men who was in fair condition, has informed me that the village was empty; it was apparently a ruse to keep our troops away from their intended point of penetration to the south of Baqubah! The little I have from EOD says that most of the explosion was due to recycled landmines and IEDs."

Baron sat back on his 'desk', and waited several moments to collect his thoughts. "Sergeant Silas."

Silas cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, Captain, "he replied, making to stand up, but Baron waved him down with a sharp 'at ease,' so he sat back down. " Sir, the enemy

appears to have buried several old style landmines around the mosque that were simply hidden in such a way as to preclude us from noting their presence. The explosion was set off by PFC Downy, who triggered it when he leaned against a column. The explosive was imbedded in the concrete piling and when he stepped on it….." His voice trailed off.

"We were busy trying to get Downy to safety and put out the fire when the enemy came at us from the South, which we did not expect. Despite our being prepared for any eventuality…what we believed was any eventuality, we were unable to save the Mosque. Sir."

"We lost Downy, didn't we Sergeant?"

"Yes sir. "

"We lost Howell and nine of his and Hutchinson's squad. This in unacceptable! "Baron said angrily as he stood up and began to pace. " We have a problem here gentlemen. And you all know what I am speaking of! I've spoken to each and everyone in this room and despite what you are all telling me, it seems apparent that we _most definitely_ have someone in our midst who is leaking information! And I WILL FIND HIM! And when I do……………."

Baron clenched his fists and walked around to the opposite side of his 'desk' angrily dropping into his chair. "They'll be a memorial for Lieutenant Howell, PFC Downy and the rest of Unit 3 & 4 tomorrow at 0:1500 hours. Now get out!"

* * *

Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah smiled and offered up a silent prayer to Allah, thanking him for finding him worthy of fighting for the holy cause.

Several weeks ago he had come to be sitting in his brother's home eating a light dinner of lamb and vegetables and talking to several other men of his brothers' acquaintance. The men were members of an insurgent group that protested the newly formed interim Iraqi government. The group used its talents to disrupt and destroy symbols of the new government, and when necessary, they perpetrated acts that were foul, but meant only to call their Iraqi brethren to arms. Sulayman was shocked to learn they were behind the plan to attack the Baqubah mosque; to defile a mosque was abhorrent to Allah and to Mohammed, Praise be unto him. But his brother explained it a different way.

"It has already been defiled, by the Americans, by their presence alone, my dear brother; they have entered our holy city and stood on our hallowed ground. They are _Kafir!_ They must be cast out!" said Harun, pointing to the door, while the other men nodded and made noises of assent.

"Sulayman," began a short, chubby man in the traditional 3-piece head cover with a white summer _gutrah. _Surprisingly he wore a pair of khaki utility paints under his

light colored _dishdashah _. "You must understand. Peaceful attempts to take back our country will never be successful." He picked up a dish of khiyar salata in his right hand and placed it down in front of him, serving himself a generous portion, before passing it on.

"Yes, you are right, Rustam! "

"Because, you see, Sulayman," Rustam continued in a syrupy sweet voice. "Our own people have become _weak_. Just recently we held an American journalist captive in exchange for the release of our woman who are held captive by the Americans; they allowed her to go free even when their demands were not met. In that way we have been perceived as being weak too many times. Our threats hold no fear. No, "he said. "The time has come for deal-making to be over. If we truly want to defend our country, to stop this illegal dangerous and deadly occupation we must strike fear in them."

Sulayman nodded, mesmerized by Rustam's tone and demeanor. "Yes, yes. "He said nodding. "You are right. I see it every day at my work how it is with them." He placed a bit of the spit-roasted lamb on his plate and passed the dish to the man on his other side.

"Aiyee!" Harun yelled suddenly, causing the other men to jump. "Allah Akbar! God is great! Sulayman, my brother! You can help us defeat the infidel."

"I understand you work in the American ARMY camp." The second man who'd been silent for much of the conversation up until then, finally said. "I am Rahman. I am the leader of the movement known to the American soldiers as KAOS. With your help we shall drive them from our midst. "But," he continued, "let us forget all of this for now and finish our meal. It will soon be time to make _salat. "_

Later on in the small curtained off area in his brothers' home which had become his sleeping area, Sulayman sat on several pillows whose lumpy padding had become so thin and compacted he might as well be sitting on bare earth, and considered what would be his part in the war against the Americans. He was shocked to learn that Rahman was the leader of KAOS, or that his brother, a mild mannered man who had never spoken out about the American occupation before, was a part of the insurgent group, and one with such a high profile.

He himself was a worker contracted by K.B.R, set up to work for six months at the U.S base. Many workers were brought in from Iran and India and Malaysia, and only a special few were placed in jobs in the camp laundry or mess hall or doing manual labor. The fact that he'd lied and said he was from Turkey, had helped. It would be easy enough to "over hear" information at Camp Freedom and report to KAOS; sometimes the soldiers were not careful and spoke right in front of him and many of the other workers.

They had explained in detail all he needed to do, and it was really quite simple. He was to keep his eyes and ears open and report back to his brother. Should he be caught sneaking information out of the camp, or eavesdropping, he was to tell the Americans that he was simply the go-between, that someone else in the camp told him what information to report. He even had a good idea of who the "pigeon", would be.

They told him he was being given a rare opportunity to redeem himself in the eyes of Allah. Should he die in the attempt he would depart this world as a Martyr; He would permitted to enter a Paradise where gardens watered by running streams, wine, fruits, wealth, and beautiful virgins were in abundance.

* * *

gutrah – part of the three-piece headwear worn by muslim men, usually a white or red checked kerchief held in place with a large ring, 

dishdashah - Traditional long muslim shirt

khiyar salata - Cucmber salad

Allah Akbar! - God is great!


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Four

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
01500 Hours The Following Day

They stood standing stiffly at attention, the heat of the afternoon sun beginning to cool, but remaining just hot enough to bake one's scalp beneath the hard Kevlar-covered helmets and send torrents of sweat, running in rivulets down hard muscled bodies hidden beneath modest BDU's. Discomfort, being rated on an increasing scale of one to ten, exceeded the maximum, but in light of the grim look on Captain Baron's face, not one single sole flinched. Those who felt light-headed were literally too afraid to lose consciousness.

After what seemed an eternity, the ecumenical minister ended with a brief prayer and squad by squad they made their way past the nine memorials, small monuments made of sandbags, boots, dog tags and rifles meant to honor their fallen comrades; PFC's Downy, Barrows and Thompson; Privates Dean and Wolpert; Sergeant John Addison; the Medic, Corporal Roberts and Sergeant Jack Bauer from the E.O.D. Something tangible to mourn over while the remains of their tortured bodies were returned home to their families.

It was a somber Squad that returned to their barracks and sat quietly on their bunks contemplating the tragedy of the prior evening. Even Dim, ever the deep and philosophical one, found himself speechless for a time; he noticed Angel sitting at the head of his bunk, eyes closed, hands clasped tightly in his lap, his lips moving slowly but silently, but didn't say a word.

Angel opened his eyes and found them watching him. "I was praying for their families." Angels responded. "They're gonna need them."

"Yeah," said Smoke, his face looking downward. Feeling the weight of the other men's stares, he looked up suddenly. "What? 'Ya all think I'm a heathen, right? Think I don't got no feelings?" He turned abruptly on Dim. "And what you looking at, white boy? Huh?" Smoke said angrily, getting up from his bunk in a hurry.

"Whoa! What the hell did I do?" Dim yelled as he jumped up from his rack and took several steps towards the other man.

Tariq quickly grabbed Dim and pushed him back towards his bunk, while Angel stepped in front of Smoke.

"Get your ass out my face!" Smoke yelled, giving Angel a light shove. "I'm gonna kick-"

"FEMALE?"

Tariq shoved Dim back and yelled, "Cut the shit, Dim! It's too fucking hot! "

The tent flap parted slightly and the heads of Doublewide and Mrs. B slipped thru the opening. "Y'all want an audience, or should we just come back later?" Brenda drawled.

"Oh just come in!" Dim snapped and flopped down on his bunk with a truly pissed off expression on his face, as Tariq held the flap open for them.

"Hey! They ain't supposed to be in here-"Smoke began.

"Who appointed you tent monitor?" Brenda asked. Smoke just sat back down and sulked.

"Wow. You guys sure know how to make a girl feel welcome." Doublewide cracked.

She gave Angel's footlocker a shove with her foot and seated herself.

Dim, ever the gentleman, gave his own locker a shove and nodded to Brenda, who made herself as comfortable as one could be, perched upon a hard metal footlocker.

"We could only see and hear the fighting from where they had us waiting last night, but it sounded pretty bad…" Doublewide began.

"It wasn't pretty." Tariq commented grimly. "We got ambushed, plain, and simple."

"Got caught with our dicks swingin' in the wind." Smoke clarified.

"Nice!" Dim snapped, shooting Smoke a disdainful look. "They _are _ladies you know!"

"Bite me!"

"Gee…. thank you for that picture, Smoke." Brenda replied and for a moment they all laughed.

"Glad you guys are okay." Doublewide said softly, Brenda nodding in agreement.

"What do you guys think about the rumor?"

"What rumor?" Dim asked.

"That's whack!" Smoke said, lying back on his bunk.

"What rumor?" Dim asked again.

"I don't know," Angel responded. "They know when we're coming, it's just-"

"What rumor!" Dim snapped

"She means the one about there being a traitor in the camp." Tariq said, nodding at Doublewide.

"Whoa!" Dim replied loudly and sat upright on his bunk. "What traitor? Who's a traitor?"

"Shush, Dim!"

"NO! What are you guys talking about, a traitor? Who says-"

"Sergeant!" Angel said jumping quickly to his feet, followed by the rest of the squad, except for Dim, who managed to trip over the footlocker beside his bed and land on his ass.

Silas looked at Dim and simply shook his head. "I'm not even gonna comment." He took several steps towards the middle of the tent. "So," he said, crossing his arms on his chest and looking around. "Seems there was a meeting and someone forgot, on purpose, to invite me. Any reason why?"

Mrs. B spoke up. "No meeting, si…uh, Sergeant, we…uh…"

Silas peered at her and nodded encouragingly.

"Well, we knew that the rest of the platoon had been in Baquobah last night and we just wanted to see that everyone was alright sir, that's all… really."

Silas looked around again and with a shrug of his shoulders, said, "Okay. That's reasonable."

He turned as though to leave, then shook his head. "Oh. Except for the fact, that we have woman in a men's barracks. Hmmmm….. I'll just have to stay and make sure nothing suspicious goes on." And with that he sat himself on the end of the empty bunk beside Smoke.

The resultant silence was deafening.

"Hey, don't let me stop you from talking," Silas commenting and he began shaking the sand out of his helmet. He shook it several times but could still hear a few stray grains rattling around. He began to strike the helmet against the side of the bed frame, with a loud 'Bang! Bang! Bang!' He looked up and saw they were all staring at him. 'You know a better way?" he asked.

They all shook their heads.

Seeing that he wasn't going to coax another grain from his helmet, he tossed it onto the bunk and leaning down, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, frowning. "So you suddenly all lose your voices or just scared to talk about shit you **_shouldn't_** be talking about, in front of me?"

"Hard not to talk to each other about something like this, Sergeant." Tariq spoke up, his voice slightly defiant. "It affects everyone here. We have to be able to trust each other."

Silas took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. "Agreed. It's pretty goddamned difficult to believe that the man, or woman, sitting beside you, who you've trusted with your life, could be capable of being a traitor, isn't it?"

The group murmured their assent.

"Without any hard evidence, all talking about it does is cast more suspicion, and that's not good for morale. You can't go into battle questioning the man or woman, sitting beside you; whether or not they're gonna be there for you when you go into battle. You can't fight like that. "

He stood up slowly. "After what happened last night, they'll be a very serious investigation; you'll probably all be questioned eventually. For now, keep that to yourselves. Okay?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"Yeah, Sarge."

"Good. Get yourselves to the Mess. I'll see you all back here at 18:00."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Rawhide One Barracks  
0:900 the Following Day 

Tariq was not having a good morning. He'd spent a half of an hour prior to breakfast looking for his compass and the map that the Sergeant had given him last night when they'd met to discuss today's duty, only he couldn't find it. They were going back into Baquobah, again, to deliver eviction papers, then to assist with several evictions, and then back to the small village beyond to question the surviving villagers and search for any signs of further insurgent activity.

He was lying on the plywood floor, half of his body hidden beneath the bed frame, when he heard a shuffling sound and then a loud 'thud' as something heavy and metallic fell to the floor. Instinct took over as he tried to get to his knees, but somewhat distracted, he rapped the back of his head against the underside ofthe bed frame. "Shit!" he yelled, then quickly but carefully slid out from under the bed and crouched beside it, ready to spring if necessary.

He was surprised to see a traditionally dressed middle-aged Iraqi, wearing a checked _gutrah. _and_ ogal _and a light colored _dishdashah _. He was carrying a metal crate filled with army issue linens and blankets. Annoyed that he's been disturbed by something so trivial, he let out a short exasperated grunt and gave the Iraqi launderer a look of utter disdain, before he got to his feet, and sat down heavily on his bunk. He grabbed his A.L.I.C.E pack and began angrily pulling objects out and tossing them down beside him.

"Perhaps you should remain on your knees." Sulayman said under his breath in Arabic, as he began to move to the first bunk on his right, where he removed the blanket and sheets, then placed the newly laundered items in a pile in the middle of the bed.

Tariq quickly turned his head. "Excuse me?"

"To make _Salat. _To ask the forgiveness of Allah, praise be to him, for your sins." He replied. "Ismy Sulayman. Ma ismok? Tariq, na'am? "(My name is Sulayman. Your name is Tariq, yes?)

Tariq gave the man a hard look. "Worry about your own sins, old man, and _I'll_ worry about mine."

Sulayman moved on to the next bunk. "How does one choose to fight his own people?" He asked in Arabic. "To join with the infidel, and perform abominations-"

"Inchev!" (Shut-up!) Tariq yelled, wheeling around to face the older man. "I'm not one of _your people_! Now shut-up and get out!"

"I will pray to Allah, that you are shown the truth; Allah is most merciful. He forgives-"Sulayman said gently, take several steps towards Tariq.

"There's nothing to forgive! Now get _out_, I said!" Tariq shouted, pointing towards the entrance flap and taking a step back.

But Sulayman kept moving forward. "_La-KHAF!_ Don't be afraid! All will be forgiven."

He replied, placing a hand on Tariq's shoulder. "_Al-HUM-du-li-lah!"_ (With the grace of God.)

Tariq spun quickly to the left, grabbing the man's forearm with his right, knocking the hand off his shoulder. He pressed the arm downward, grasping his wrist in the opposite hand and spun the man around shoving him towards the entrance.

Sulayman turned and bowed his head. "_Ann eazinak!" ( "_ I am most sorry")

"IMSHEE!" Tariq yelled angrily, stepping towards Sulayman, his fists clenched tightly and ready to strike out, when Lieutenant Hunter burst into the tent.

"Just what is going on in here? "He looked at Sulayman whose face had grown pale when the Lieutenant had walked in, then at the young soldier whose face was bright red and full of anger. "Private Nisseri, is there some sort of problem I should be aware of? Or should we just wait while you sort things out with the 'little Iraqi Washerwoman, here? "

"NO pra-ah-balem, Captain. I go get laundry." Sulayman said slowly, feigning a complete lack of competence with the English language, but knowing enough to give Hunter a promotion.

"Yeah," Hunter replied, staring at Nisseri. "You go do that, Saddam," as Sulayman slipped out of the tent.

Hunter continued to stare at Tariq. "I'm watching you." he said softly, then spun on his heel and walked out of the tent, Tariq following behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Five  
Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

Author's note: The sentiments of Lieutenant Hunter reflect only the sentiments of Lieutenant Hunter.

* * *

Village of Baquobah  
01400 later that day 

"How old are most people when they get Alzheimer's?" Tariq asked. He was sitting on one of the hard seats in the back of the partially filled truck that contained medical supplies and M.R.E.'s.

Dim was sitting on the floor of the truck, dangling his legs over the side. "Hmm. "Well, Ronald Regan was diagnosed at 84. Charlton Heston was 79."

"Who's that?" Smoke asked. Pulling another box from the truck and balancing it on a shoulder.

"_Ronald Regan_?"

"Nah, other guy."

"Charlton Heston….You know, the actor? Famous actor? "

Smoke looks unsure.

"Ten Commandments ring a bell?" asked Dim.

When Smoke still looked unsure, Angel nudged him. "Moses."

"Oh. "

"Yeah, the NRA guy who said guns _don't_ kill people….." Dim laughed.

"We'll he's right. People wit the guns kill people." Smoke commented.

"Hello? No guns, no people getting shot at!" Dim offered.

"Guns don't kill people. Apes with guns kill people," Tariq said with a straight face, making Angel and Dim laugh. "I heard that somewhere." He replied.

"Hello?" Smoke said. "You think a monkey knows how to shoot a gun, Dimwit?" Smoke said, obviously _not_ making the connection.

"Smoke! Stop bullshitting and get the rest these boxes off my truck!" Silas said coming up behind him. "You guys too," he snapped, motioning to the rest of them, while trying to side step a goat that'd apparently been interested in the contents of one of the boxes, and was now chewing on it. "I want to get the hell out of this goat-filled shit hole sometime this week!" He kicked the box on the ground and the goat bleated angrily.

"Got it Sarge", Dim responded as they all climbed out of the truck with several boxes and walked into the small dimly lit store front that served as a clinic for the village. A small Iraqi woman, covered from head to toe in a black _bourka,_ lowered her eyes and nodded to them, pointing to a corner where several boxes had already been stacked.

"So why are you asking about Alzheimer's?" Dim asked.

Tariq placed his two boxes on top of two more and then gently shoved the whole stack against the wall to make more room. "I don't know. I've just been…I can't remember where I put things all of a sudden. I keep losing things. I lost that map, my compass, a book. A letter. A friggin' letter to my mother, now how do you lose a letter to my mother?"

"It's probably just stress. Don't let it make you crazy. I think it happens to everyone a few time at least, right Angel?" Dim asked as they made their way back outside.

"I forget where I put stuff all the time, but, I wish someone would forget where they put him," Angel replied, motioning with his chin, as Lieutenant Hunter strode toward them.

"Aren't you men done yet?"

"We're just waiting on the Sergeant, sir." Angel said calmly.

"What's taking so him long! We still have an eviction notice to serve" he complained as he opened a folded sheet of paper, and scan the text. "One Abdilrashma Ala wannabe?" He shoved the paper in Tariq face. "What the hell does that say?"

Tariq gave an exasperated sound and stepped back yanking the paper out of his face. "It says Abdel Rahman Al-Wahhabi; Abdel meaning 'servant', rahman meaning 'merciful'. Al-Wahhabi," He continued, the tone of his voice becoming slightly agitated," is a tribal affiliation; it tells you what village he came from. You have any other questions?"

"Thank you for explaining that… as if I actually cared what you and your _family_ call yourselves. You're all related anyway." He said with a fake smile, totally oblivious to the fact that he'd ticked the younger man off.

Suddenly there were raised voices, as Sergeant Silas appeared at the door of the clinic, with Angel and two agitated Iraqi woman. Silas spoke to Angel, who nodded and walked steadily towards Tariq and Lieutenant Hunter. He nodded at Tariq. "Sarge needs you to translate."

"Well what's going on?" Hunter demanded. Why is she," pointing to a woman in the black bourka "yelling at one of my men?

"She says there are things missing that they need and they wants us to go get them. Sarge told her- "

"Must I do everything myself? You! "He said pointing his finger at Tariq's face, again. "Let's go!" Hunter snapped, striding angrily towards the commotion.

Silas turned and saw the lieutenant approach; determined to not let him cause another fiasco, he turned and met him half way. "She says there are things missing that they need and want us to go get them. She says that we should have 62 boxes for her and not the 56 we gave her-"

"Which one? That almost normal looking one or the bee keeper?" Hunter said cutting him off.

"Sharmute!" Tariq hissed under his breath, but loud enough for Silas to hear, and his head jerked to his extreme left, a look of shock on his face.

"What? What did he say?" Hunter asked

"_Bee –keeper_? You think that's funny?" Tariq asked, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Tariq." Silas said warily.

"Yeah." Hunter drawled, taking a step closer to Tariq and leaning into his personal space, just looking to push the younger man into an argument "Yeah, I thinks it's funny. Don't you?"

"NO, I don't." Tariq said taking a step forward-

"Tariq!" Silas said grabbing the Privates arm and trying to pull him away.

"I don't think it's funny at all!"

"Tariq! Shut up! "Silas snapped again, nodding at Smoke, who quickly step to his squad-mates side and try to help pull him away. But it didn't help. Tariq was not moving.

"Sergeant, I want this man written up and put on report for insubordination!"

"Sir-"Silas began, still trying to remove his man.

"Insubordination and-"

"Telhasi teezi !" Tariq hissed at Hunter. For a moment after he was slightly dizzy as Silas grabbed him, turned him around and stuck his beak in Tariq's face.

"SHUT UP! Don't you say another goddamned word, Tariq, NOT ONE MORE GODDAMMED WORD! SHUT UP and get your ass on that truck, now or I'll kick your ass there!" Silas shoved the man toward Smoke, who grabbed Tariq by the arm and escorted him past Angel and Dim who were too stunned to say anything.

Along side of the truck, Mrs. B and Doublewide stood silently; Doublewide's eyes were as big as saucers and Mrs. B just bit her lower lip as they watched Silas stand calmly listening to Hunter as he continued to voice his outrage, then turned strode angrily in their direction. They caught his eye briefly and scurried back to the front of the truck.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
01600 

Somber didn't seem like a strong enough word to use to describe he mood as the squad of seven made their way back to Camp freedom that evening. Nothing was said; there was no conversation or except for the sound of Dim clearing his throat, which was followed by a look from Silas that might have made lesser men incontinent.

Mrs. B pulled into the camp and came to a stop as she usually did, in front of the inner gate inside the camp. This way the soldiers didn't have to walk all the way back to their barracks or Mess or wherever, from the motorpool. She felt some movement in the back of the truck, and watched as Smoke and Dim jumped from the back, then accepted the clipboard Doublewide handed her and began to fill out the necessary forms. She jumped in her seat when Esmerelda gasped and emitted a tiny scream, taken totally by surprise when Silas appeared at her door and opened it.

"I got this, ladies. You can go now." He said roughly.

"I just need to finish this-"

"GET OUT GODDAMNIT!" Silas screamed.

Doublewide jumped up from her seat at the sound of his voice, and tried to climb out of the truck, but tripped in doing so. She failed to hit the ground only because Silas reached out and grabbed her. She tried to pull her arm away, angry that he'd frightened her badly enough that she'd almost been hurt, but he didn't let go of her arm.

"I'm…sorry, ma'am." Silas said softly.

"It's okay." Mrs B. said, clearly upset at Silas. "I got her. Come on, Esmerelda." She took the other woman's arm and gently pulled her away, and toward the mess tent.

Silas stood watching them go, looking down at the ground, cursing softly. He grabbed his helmet and tossed it into the truck, rubbing his head angrily. He saw Tariq standing at the back of the truck. "Get in the goddamned truck!" he shouted, climbing into the passenger side, and slamming the door behind him.

Tariq climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine, then began driving slowly towards the motorpool. When he got there, he handed the clip board thru the window to the motorpool crew, but made no effort to get out. The crew stood waiting for them to get out, but when neither Tariq, nor Silas made a move, they simply walked away.

Silas tuned and gazed out his window. "You know Hunter has every right to write you up for what you did, what you said." He shook his head. "Oh, and I _know_ what you said. And yeah, Hunter might be a _bastard_ and you might really want him to '_lick your ass'_ ? But you can't _say_ that to him, you can't say that to an OFFICER AND I DON'T, GIVE A SHIT WHAT LANGUAGE IT'S IN!" he yelled.

He turned and looked at Tariq. "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHOLE?

The younger man placed his hands on the steering wheel and gripped it hard. "It's offensive, the shit he says, Sergeant! I just…! First he shoves this paper in my face and makes jokes about peoples names, and then puts me down and insinuates that I'm one of them and my family- I'm sick of his comments about my having Iraqi parents and relatives! Last week he asked me if any one in my family was named Osama. The day before he asked if my father drove a Buick or a Camel! I'm here doing my job like every other American soldier, I don't have to take that shit!" he yelled.

Silas tried not to smile at the "Buick or camel' question. "No. You're right. That's harassment and you shouldn't have to take it. BUT…Christ! There are ways to handle it, and what you did was _not_ one of them!"

He shook his head and exhaled loudly. "Okay. Baron's gonna call you in about this. You tell him what you told me, I'll talk to him too, see if I can …Damn, I don't know, _maybe_ I can tell him you're just stressed out and it all got to you." But" he said turning to face Tariq,"You goddamn apologize to Hunter and don't you ever lose it like that again or I swear I'll kick your ass!"

Tariq nodded, slowly. "I wouldn't. I'm really sorry I got you in the middle of this shit Sergeant, I …It wouldn't happen again."

"And don't discuss it with anyone... Jesus- , don't talk to Dim!"

"I wouldn't."

"Good. Now get out!"


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter six

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

There is no Iraqi saying that could come close enough to the American expression "being on cloud nine', but that was exactly how Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah felt this evening as he sat on several high, soft, velvet cushions on the floor of his brothers home, surrounded by those he had come to think of as his new friends; Rahman, the KAOS leader; Rustam, Ibrahim, his brother Harun, of course and a young man with dark hair and even darker eyes, named Fazul.

He reached over with his right hand, to take the warm plate of _Kubbeh; _minced meat, pine nuts, raisins and spices and placed one on top the rice already on his dish, before passing it on, then accepted a plate of bread as well. There was some general discussion about the weather, livestock, information about the well-being of family and friends, until the woman rose and left the room, leaving the men alone to discuss more urgent things.

"So, Sulayman," Rahman began. "Tell us what is our progress? We are most excited to hear from Harun, that you are doing well." He nodded towards Harun and smiled.

"Ah! I have good news!" Sulayman reported. "The papers regarding the upcoming election procedures are already obtained, but I was unable to remove them today. I have also already made contact with our 'helper' Several times in fact. He will be a sacrifice to Allah."

"Allah Akbar!" the Ibrahim men called out, nodding.

"So," Rahman continued, not caring one whit about the person they would be destroying or all that much about Allah. "What is your move? We will need to get this election information within the next few days so that we might prepare. Can you do this?"

"Of course! Sulayman said, brushing off the question as though his possible failure was indeed laughable. "Tomorrow night. The Captain is gone and only that fool of a Loootenant is in charge."

"This Loootenant, you are sure you will be able to get what you need from him?"

" Lieutenant Hunter!" Fazul laughed. "The man is a fool! It will be no trouble at all."

Sulayman looked sharply at Fazul.

"Fazul will be going with you tomorrow. It has already been arranged. You will give him the papers and he will smuggle them out of the camp."

"It is unnecessary-"

"It is better this way Sulayman. You must trust us. Surely by now you do?"

"Sulayman," began Rustam wearing the same pair of khaki utility paints and

_dishdashah. _"It is safer this way. Should one of you be captured …Well, of course we all know that the most important thing is to obtain the information, even if it means we lose a man. But that man will live forever in Paradise and he will be rewarded by Allah. Is that not _worth_ the price of our lives?"

"Yes, yes, of course you are right, you are right, Rustam! "

"Good. Our plan will proceed."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
01800

Silas stood at ease in front of Captain Baron's desk watching as his commanding officer read a document that was several pages long, and recognizing the document as the report made by Lieutenant Hunter regarding Tariq.

Baron had gotten thru three pages, then tossed the entire thing onto his desk, and began rubbing his eyes. He raised his hands to the back of his neck and began to massage the area. "Sergeant? Anything you wish to add to this report."

"Sir, I realize that Private Nisseri's behavior was inappropriate-"

"Inappropriate, Sergeant!" Hunter exclaimed, leaping from his chair to the left of Silas. "Inappropriate? It was blatant insubordination and I want this man-"

"Enough, _please_, lieutenant." Baron said eyeing Hunter angrily. I believe I asked Sergeant Silas for his input, not yours. I've already heard yours, five pages worth, in fact." He stared a Hunter for another moment and then turned back to Silas.

"Please continue."

"Yes, sir. I was going to say that as inappropriate and out of line Private Nisseri's behavior was, that there was a direct motivation for it, which has not been discussed, or mentioned in Lieutenant Hunter's report."

"And that would be….?"

"Private Nisseri has on several occasions made it known that he does not appreciate certain comments made about the Iraqi people, customs, and traits. On many occasions I have witnessed those types of comments being made and then similar comments inferring that Private Nisseri and his family share those traits."

"The men are making these comments, Sergeant?"

"No,sir. Lieutenant Hunter has."

Baron's Head swiveled toward Hunter, whose mouth was gaping wide open. "That's not true! When have I-?"

Baron silenced him with a motion of his hand. "Exactly _what _has been said?"

"The earlier before this happened, Lieutenant Hunter had made a disparaging comment about the name of an individual we were assigned to assist in eviction proceedings. When Private Nisseri attempted to explain the correct pronunciation, as well as the origin and meaning this man's name, in an effort I'm sure, to inform and educate the Lieutenant and the other men in his squad, the Lieutenant responded with a disparaging comment about Iraqi's, and stated the privates family and the rest of them were "all related anyway."

"That's not what I meant, Sergeant, and he knew it!"

"Lieutenant, did you not just recently ask Private Nisseri if anyone in his family was named Osama? Or if Mr. Nisseri, Private Nisseri's father drove a Buick or a Camel? Had those comments been made towards me sir, I would have been very offended and embarrassed by those comments as I am sure Private Nisseri was!"

"So you're saying that you feel Private Nisseri was provoked?" Baron asked sharply.

"I think that those comments in the past confounded the earlier comment and then the comment Lieutenant Hunter used in referring to the Iraqi woman-"

Baron, who had been staring at Hunter, quickly turned his head back to Silas. "Excuse me for interrupting Sergeant, but what comment?"

Silas looked over at Hunter, whose eyes were red with anger, knowing that complete honesty would cause an even further breakdown between this man and his squad, but he felt he could not hold back. It would be wrong to allow the Lieutenant to smear Tariq's excellent record. Taking a deep breath he replied, "He referred to the woman as a Bee-Keeper."

Baron shook his head as though confused. "A Bee Keeper?"

'Yes, sir. She was wearing a bourka."

"And that's when Private Nisseri verbally responded and made a comment to Lieutenant Hunter?"

"In Iraqi," Hunter sneered at Silas. "He was standing by his convictions Sergeant, but he didn't have the guts to say it in English, right?"

"Lieutenant? Private Nisseri speaks _Arabic_. That's what Iraqi's speak." The younger man responded. There was a wry grin on his face and a look that clearly conferred the message 'you're a pathetic asshole.'

"That's enough, thank you!" Captain Baron said raising his voice slightly. "I have enough bullshit to deal with without _this_ bullshit. Sergeant, Private Nisseri will make up for his _mistake _by forfeiting some of his down time and doing extra duty that I will decide upon. He will also apologize profusely to Lieutenant Hunter…"

Hunter looked at Silas and gloated.

"-but I will not place him on report."

The look of happiness immediately deflated on Hunter's face.

"That's all. You're dismissed."

Silas nodded." Thank You, sir." He turned and nodded towards Hunter then proceeded to walk to the entrance. His unit leader was only a step behind him when-

"Not so fast Lieutenant Hunter. I'd like to speak with you. Now! "

Camp Freedom

O300 Into the Following Day

"Hey, I'm glad you didn't get into any trouble over that crap with Hunter," Dim was saying. He and Tariq were sitting on top of sandbags piled three high behind an even higher wall of sandbags, on patrol just inside the perimeter of the camp. Up about 500 meters two additional men were stationed behind there own sandbag bunker, all of them wearing their protective gear and NVG's.

"Yeah thanks" Tariq was saying. "I don't mind the extra duty and giving up the free time so much as I hated having to apologize to Hunter, but it was worth it though, if it kept me from getting put on report or having a mark on my record."

"Sarge came through, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. He's still pissed off at me though. He's been screaming at me."

"How the heck can you tell? He screams at everyone." Dim asked. They both laughed for a moment.

"So how's Vanessa and Eddie? You haven't said much about them lately."

"Eddie's good." A look of pride fell over Dim's face." He keeps talking about all the things he wants to do when I get back home. He loves school. He's become a pretty good artist. He's sending a new picture."

"And….. Vanessa?" Tariq asked.

Dim looked down at the ground and shook his head." I guess she's okay. She's doing A.A, doing the steps, seems to be doing okay. I don't ask her much. "

Tariq kept his gaze ahead, giving the other man time to collect his thoughts.

"I know it sucks. I know I'm a shit for not caring, but-"

"Well you're hurt, man. You're prides injured. I can understand _that."_

"But what? Pride goeth before a fall?"

"Exactly. You love her, you try to make peace. Try to forgive and forget."

"You think that's easy?" Dim asked, standing up, his voice hard.

"No. No, I don't. Hell, it's not easy when you love someone. I've been there already." Tariq replied, straightening his legs in front of him, leaning down to massage a calf. He looked up to see Dim looking down at him strangely. Taking a deep breath, he said "Okay, I'll tell you something I haven't told anyone here. But it's personal, so keep it to your self."

Dim nodded and sat back down, scanning the open area ahead of them.

"About 6 months before September eleventh I got engaged, to a girl I - Well, I really loved her, a lot. Wanted to spend my life with her, you know, the whole deal, kids, etc. She was ahead of me in school; in fact she'll be graduating soon. She's a Journalism major. Anyway, we got engaged. The religion and ethnic background was never a problem-"

"She wasn't Iraqi?" Dim interrupted surprise evident in his voice.

"No." He laughed. "She was freaking Irish! Red hair and freckles. And my parents loved her. Her mom was okay, as long as I agreed she could raise our kids catholic."

"Ah. Catholic."

"Yeah. Anyway September eleventh happens. You know what happened to my family, my Dad getting beat up and my mom……"his voice trailed off.

Dim nodded. He'd recalled the shock he'd felt when he'd heard how Tariq's family had been treated, been unfairly judged by the actions of others.

"Well, Cathy couldn't handle it. She had a few friends who kept badgering her about us-some friends, huh? Then her mother got on her about what she'd go thru if she married me, how people would react, especially after my dad got messed up. Cathy wanted us to slow down all of a sudden, wait another year."

He laughed. "I said why? So you can test the political climate and see if marrying a man of Iraqi parentage would be more acceptable then? You know, you either love me or not, I told her, but she kept saying I do, but lets wait, things might change. And that's when I stopped and looked at her and said what's gonna change? If you think you're love for me is going to change then lets not get married at all."

"You know my mother said to be more understanding, but my pride was hurt. My pride as a man. So I let her go. Told her it was off."

He looked down. "She came around a few weeks later, apologizing, trying to explain how she felt, that she was just scared, that….she loved me, he whispered. But I said no. All because of pride."

He laughed again. "Pride is a fucking crazy thing, man. I come here because of my pride, proud to be an American, and look at the shit I gotta take, even here." He shook his head.

Dim reached over, grabbing his friends shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He was just about to speak when there was the sound of several shots fired from behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Seven

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for coarse language and sexual situations. Be warned that this story does include depictions of war; and while not over graphic, they may cause some readers discomfort. Please read at your own risk.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
O400 That Same Morning.

Sergeant Christopher Silas was doing something he very rarely did since his arrival in Iraq; he was dreaming.

Doctor Jerusalem Harms had given him pills to help him sleep, suggesting it was probably stress, but had she had more time to talk with him, counsel him, it was more likely she would have told him he was suffering from some degree of Post Traumatic Stress, the Iraqi wars signature disorder. A recent study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association found that one in five servicemen and women returning from Iraq actually suffering from psychological conditions

But Silas was dreaming and it was a good dream. He was sitting in a chaise lounge

by a pool of the bluest water he had even seen, sipping a margarita. The sun was shining down, warming his olive skin which was covered with a light sheen of sweat on his chest, arms and legs. He wore a Speedo; this made him frown slightly in the midst of his dreaming because it was not something he would usually don for the pool, but he didn't look bad. At least the beautiful blonde in the bikini beside him, seemed to think he looked pretty good. She turned to him, smiling and spoke, but he couldn't hear what she'd said. He leaned in, asking her to repeat when-

"Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Pop!"

Silas sat bolt upright in his bunk. Several other men in his tent were sitting up as well, equally confused-

"Pop! Pop pop! POP! "There it was again, this time followed by the sound of feet pounding on hard earth.

"Get down! "Silas screamed, rolling himself out of the bunk and hitting the floor with a loud "UMPH!" He grabbed his vest and BDU jacket and wiggled his way into them in the dark, shrugging into the jacket and grabbing his pants. All around him the rest of his tent mates were doing the same thing.

"Get him!" came the unmistakable voice of Lieutenant Hunter, as he ran by. By then Silas was fully dressed and ran out of the tent nearly doing his eye damage as he put on his NVG and immediately went to check on his men.

"Rawhide one! Sound off! "Behind him Lapus was doing the same.

"Nisseri and Dumphy here Sergeant!" Tariq yelled as Silas ran towards the sandbag bunker.

"You two okay? What the Hell was that! "

"We're not sure Sergeant! The shots came from back that way." Dim called back pointing towards Barons tent.

"You stay there! You stay at your post and stay alert! "Silas yelled at them turning and running back towards the command tent, his weapon out and at the ready.

When he reached the command tent he heard the unmistakable thudding sound of someone being punched quite hard. He pressed thru the opening to see a man on his knees; he was being held down by two MP's and a third one was in front of him delivering a punch directly to his solar plexus. Hunter was standing to one side, his arms crossed over his chest. Silas felt movement behind him. A quick glance confirmed it was Lapus.

"Alright, that's enough." Hunter shouted, realizing he had witnesses. He walked over and leaned down, staring into the man's face. "Now. Who in the hell are you and what do you think you're doing with these!" He yelled, holding a handful of crumpled papers under the man's nose.

Another MP came forward. "He had this on him, Lieutenant." He quickly handed Hunter a small booklet, about the size of a passport.

"Fazul Al –sha- shak….whatever. Well, Fazul. What are you doing with my papers? Are you stealing them?"

Fazul shook his head.

"Hmm. Somehow I just don't believe you Fazul. I guess we'll just have to hold onto you until you tell us why you're here. That's of course until we send you on to Abu Ghraib." He turned to one of the MPs. "How did he get in here?"

"We don't know sir. He works in the laundry. I've seen him here before. He must have not left this evening and hid out there."

Fazul lowered his head to the ground. "Allah Akbar," he whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, right, let's see Allah help you now." To the MPs: "I want this man put in the lockup and watched carefully. Has anyone checked the laundry for signs of this other man?"

"No sir, we were too busy chasing him."

"I want ever inch of that laundry checked out! Sergeant Silas," he said turning to the younger man. "I think you're squad will do that. Get your men up and get moving." Hunter snapped.

"Yes sir" Silas responded clearly annoyed, but holding it in, refusing to give Hunter any satisfaction. He turned and left, making a beeline for his squad. So much for dreaming.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Motor Pool  
0600 Two hours Later

Corporal Hicks had been in charge of the motorpool for about two years now, despite the fact that his tour in Iraq had originally been for twelve months; he wasn't the only soldier in this war who'd found himself in this position.

He walked in to the small building that housed his 'office' and placed his third cup of coffee down on his desk, then stretched and yawned quite loudly. He'd been awakened earlier by all the noise that had followed the capture of the intruder, just like everyone else in the camp. They'd all be tired today. He heard voices and raised his head, as the rest of his crew began to arrive, and called out, "Johnson! You got '56' working yet? I need that vehicle, soldier!"

"Be done in an hour! I'm right on it!"

"Good." He said nodding and consulting his list." Mac?"

PFC McCauley looked up from his copy of Stars and Stripes.

"I got the parts for 'Thirty-one'. Damn; I still say light a match under it, but no can do."

"Yes, sir," McCauley responded, folding his paper and walking over to a set of shelves with boxes on them; each box had a number taped to the front of it, and held the paperwork and or/parts needed to complete the repairs.

"Ah, look who it is. It's Mitchell and Del Rio; so nice you could join us this fine morning, ladies." Hicks called out in an imitation of Mrs. B's lazy southern drawl.

She gave him a scornful look as she passed by him, hand out to collect the days' assignment, and kept walking.

Del Rio stopped in front of him and took the proffered paper. "You need to give up already. You're just pissing her off."

"Well, thank you for your concern, Ma'am." Hicks said. Maybe on you could persuade her to think of me a bit more kindly. It's a long ride up to Balad."

"What?"

"Yep. You two. Going up to Balad Air Base to pick up Captain Baron and bring back here. Oh don't' worry," he assured her, seeing the look on her face. "Got a whole detail going on up there with you. You'll be just fine." He said with a smile, as Del Rio shook her head.

Mrs. B, who'd finally looked at her papers, stalked back to Hicks. "You gotta be kidding me! Why can't someone else go up to Balad and get him?"

Hicks looked shocked." I thought you ladies would enjoy the ride, a little freedom-"

"A little getting my ass shot off……"Brenda retorted.

"Why doncha take number eight. Best we've got. And hurry along, Sweet Pea! Captain hates to be kept waiting. Get an early start'd be best."

A sound somewhere between a growl and a contained shriek came out of Brenda's mouth. Del Rio looked at her, and shook her head resignedly. "Come on. Not worth it

Girlfriend, "gently pulling her towards, 'Number Eight'; a M998 Humvee with a bolt-on armor kit. She grabbed the clipboard and began to run down the checklist.

Brenda climbed in to check that the vehicle had been refueled, and did an interior inspection. She leaned down to ensure that the first aid kit was under the seat, saw that it was and straightened up, turning her head. She leaned over the front seat and startled, yelled loudly as she saw two dark eyes staring back at her. She quickly recovered and pulled her weapon. Aiming it at the man's head she yelled, "Get your hands up! Get them up now! I said _now_! "

Del Rio, who had grabbed her weapon upon hearing Brenda scream, just as quickly had her own weapon thru the open back window, trained on the man lying on the floor of the Humvee.

The scream carried thru the motorpool area and several men came running, but the ladies were clearly in control. "Mac!" Del Rio screamed. "Get over on the other side and cover this piece of shit! "Marsh? Come open this back door for me!"

"Don't you even move! " Mitchell yelled at the man on the floor. "Don't even twitch!"

The man turned his head and Del Rio yelled. "You move again and I'll shoot your.."

"Jesus! Go get Hunter!" Hicks yelled over them, giving Johnson a shove.

Once the man in the Humvee was well-covered by several weapons, Marsh began to gently open the door. It was at that moment that the unknown man quickly sat up and reached for the bun at the back of Brenda's head. She recoiled at his touch; it reviled her. Angrily she brought her head down and butted the man in his head, knocking him out cold.

"I said don't move goddamnit!" She yelled and shook her head. She'd have a bitch of a headache all day for sure.

They'd pulled the man out of the Humvee and had him in flex ties by the time Hunter arrived. They searched his person, finding several items, including a large eight by eleven envelope filled with papers, which Hunter confiscated. He turned to Corporal St. Claire "Get me Silas and Lieutenant Lapus, tell them to meet me in the command tent. Get Private Nisseri also; we may need a translator. Then come back there as well."

"Yes, sir!" St. Claire responded, quickly leaving to perform his duties.

"Hicks! Outstanding job catching this mook!"

"Uh, it wasn't me sir…uh…"

"Well which man was it?" Hunter asked looking around at those assembled there.

"Uh, it was Privates Del Rio and Mitchell, Sir. They found him, covered him and Private Mitchell rendered him unconscious." Hicks replied with not just a little sense of awe.

Hunter swung around and looked at the two women, stunned. "Well. I see." He nodded, not fully believing what he'd been told. "And how did you do that Private Mitchell?"

"I head-butted him sir! Don't expect him to wake up for quite awhile. Sir!"

He looked towards Del Rio.

"I told him if he moved I'd shoot his c_ajones_ off. Seems _cojones_ is universally understood, uh, sir."

"Well…."Hunter said, stunned. " I see. Outstanding, soldiers! I'll see to it that the Captain is made aware and that your records reflect your exemplary actions."

"Thank You, Sir"

"Yes, sir. Thank You, sir."

Hunter nodded and looked at the assembled group. "As you were," and with that he left the building for the command tent.

Once he left, several of the men applauded. "Holy shit, Del Rio!" Marsh laughed. "That was friggin' priceless!"

"Hey Mitchell? How's your head?"

"Friggin hurts!" Brenda said sitting down heavily on a crate, and taking the folded cloth Johnson handed her and placing it on her forehead. She accepted the aspirin

McCaully handed her. "Shit, we better get moving if we're driving up to Balad," she said to Del Rio.

Hicks perked up immediately. "Uh, look, maybe I should send two-"

"Men?" Brenda asked, clearly perturbed. "I think Del Rio and I got this covered."With that she got up and stretched and hopped into the driver's seat.

"We can trade off driving if you need to." Del Rio said, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Yeah. We make a pretty good team," Brenda drawled with a smile pulling out of the motorpool area. She saw Hicks at the window of the first vehicle of a six vehicle convoy; he spoke to the driver for several minutes, before walking towards them and stopped at her window.

"Okay; that's for you two. You'll be behind those first two vehicles. The truck's empty, it's just so it looks like an everyday detail. You got plenty of firepower and assistance should you need it, although…..after seeing you in action Sweet Pea? I think they're the ones who'll need help." He smiled winningly at Mitchell. "So. Anything to say?"

Brenda turned her head and gave him a full view of her beautiful face. "Yes," She said slowly, in a breathless voice."

Hicks was ecstatic. "What's that, Brenda?"

"Don't _ever_ call me 'Sweet Pea' again!"

Hitting the accelerator, she peeled out, leaving Hicks in the dirt.

* * *

This information is not fiction; It's the results found in a study done just this year (2006). 


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Eight

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Command Tent  
O800 That Same Morning.

It took over an hour for Corporal St. Claire to collect Silas and Lieutenant Lapus. Private's Nisseri and Dumphy were already in the command tent finishing their written reports of last night's events as they had observed them from their post in the forward section of the Camp. They were re-reading them for accuracy and answering a few questions put to them by the MP's when Silas arrived and informed them that a second suspect had been found, and that Tariq would be remaining as an interpreter.

"Where'd they find him?" Dim whispered to St. Claire.

"Down in the motorpool." Came the equally quiet response. "He was hiding out in a Humvey, and when Del Rio and Mrs. B were checking it out, they found him."

"They okay?" Tariq asked.

"Hell, yeah! Mrs. B head-butted the guy and knocked him out! Two of them dropped his ass!" St. Claire laughed, but his laughter was cut short as Hunter arrived. He nodded to them, then quickly straightened up and made himself busy setting up a few chairs.

"Well, I'm done. " Dim said standing. He stretched and tried to reach a particularly itchy spot beneath his Kevlar vest, before putting his BDU jacket back on, but had no real success. The vests were hot and bulky, but as there had been an intrusion on the base, everyone was in full combat gear, in case of an attack, to be on the safe side. "I'll catch up to you later, in the mess." He said, giving Tariq a pat on the back. "Have fun."

Tariq grimaced.

"Alright! Bring the prisoner in here." Hunter shouted.

There was the sound of a scuffle just outside the entrance flap of the tent and then Sulayman was being pushed inside; although his hands were secured by two sets of flex-ties, he was still able to move and each arm was gripped tightly by an MP as well. Two more MPs followed behind him. It took all four of them to push him down into the chair and hold him, while his arms and legs were restrained. The MP's stepped back from the chair and Sulayman turned his head to spit at them, before turning his head towards the table where Hunter sat, flanked on either side by Silas and Lapus. Nisseri sat at the opposite end, ready to translate if need be.

Hunter stood and walked to the end of the table. "Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah," he read from the small passport like document that had been removed from the Iraqi man's person. He tossed the Id aside. "_Or_, are you Faisal Aliyalguni?" He tossed that document aside as well and retrieved one last document. "Hmmm. How about Aziz Hamid? Hmm? What about that? Are you Ah-ziz?" Hunter asked with a smirk.

When he got no response, he carefully overturned the large envelope they'd taken from Sulayman and let everything fall out of it onto the table beside him. "Gee. You've seemed to have run out of documents, Pal. "he said with a big smile.

He began to pace leisurely in front of Sulayman. "There's been a lot going on here lately, hasn't there? Raids on villages, innocent people shot and killed, buildings blown up. _Mosques_ being blown up." He stopped pacing. "Now, _that_ confuses me. You know why? You claim to respect and revere Allah and then… well, you blow up his house! People blowing up a sacred building like a mosque, doesn't seem too respectful to me."

He shook his head, and continued to pace back and forth in front of the bound man. "So whatever your name is, you know who I think you are? I think you are responsible for a lot of what's been going on here lately. I think you're a part of KAOS. I think you knew about and helped blow up that Mosque. And you're going to pay for that. In fact, right now, they're cleaning out a cell at Abu Ghraib just for you."

He came to a full stop in front of Sulayman, a leaned down staring the man in the face. "But in your case, I think I'll just tell them to leave the way it is; full of shit, so you can wallow in it like the _shit_ you are."

Sulayman gave a sudden loud yell and stood up, balancing as best he could with his legs still secured to the chair and lunged forward, hurling himself at Hunter and striking him firmly in the chest; the force propelled him backwards and into the table. Silas, Nisseri, and Lapus jumped up as the table tipped over onto its side and watched as the two men went down on the floor heavily. The force of the fall was enough to snap the flex-tie holding Salesman's right hand, which he used to scratch and pummel Hunter, who was doing his best to protect his face while trying to push the crazed man off of him. When the MP's tried valiantly to separate Sulayman from the Lieutenant and also liberate him from the chair, he used his nails and flailed his arm at them as well.

Silas saw an opportunity and grabbed at the flailing hand, bending it behind Salesman's broad back; the crazed Iraqi lurched backward and Silas was struck in the head with the hard wooden chair back with enough force to make him lose his grip, sending him backward where he landed hard on the floor and rapped his head on the ground.

Corporal St. Claire ran quickly to the supply closet and came back with a pair of heavy duty shears. Lapus saw him and nodded. "Do it!"

"You've got to hold him down, Sir! One wrong move and someone will get hurt!"

Lapus nodded."Hold him down. Don't let go!" he yelled to the MP's, who piled on top of Sulayman pressing him down!

Hunter gasped. "I can't breath!" He wheezed.

"Just hold on sir! "

Snip. Snick. Snip!

"Got it!" Lapus yelled. Immediately the men grabbed at the flailing arms and legs, and began to pull Sulayman off Hunter. Sulayman, was not about to give up without a parting shot; it was with great satisfaction that he drew his knee back and forcefully drove it forward into Hunter's crotch before he was finally tackled to the ground.

Hunter sat bolt upright and made a strangled noise. It wasn't a gasp. It wasn't moan, exactly. It was one of those sounds that couldn't be duplicated, and no combination of letters could express it in written terms, however, every man in the room could relate to the sensation and shuddered noticeably. They watched as Hunters face turned deathly white and his body sunk back onto the ground.

"Get him the hell out of here!" Lapus shouted at the MPs had him; they immediately secured him and roughly hustled him from the tent.

St Claire, who had immediately run for a medic, returned with Corporal Shaver, who moved quickly to Hunter's side. The lieutenant had somehow summoned the strength to roll over onto his right side, and was now curled up in the fetal position, panting weakly.

Shaver quickly took in the man's body position and knew exactly what had happened. Despite his intense dislike for the man, even he felt sorry for Hunter and was sympathetic. Two additional medics arrived and Hunter was gently placed on a stretcher then removed to the medical Unit.

Shaver kneeled down beside Silas, who was holding his head. He flashed a penlight from side to side in front of the man's eyes who immediately tried to bat it away from him. He felt and found a rather good sized bump on the back of Silas's head as well. "Yeah. I thought so. Come on, Sergeant, "he said placing an arm under Silas's and helping him to his feet. "Let's get you checked out, too."

"I doubt there's any damage, but we'll make sure, "Shaver commented to Lieutenant Lapus, being the highest ranking man in the tent, and turned to leave. "Damn it!" he muttered. "I miss all the good stuff!"

Lapus looked at the over turned table and chairs, and then turned face St. Claire and Tariq.

"That went well."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Prisoner Holding Area  
O1200 The Same Day

Lapus walked into the large tent that served as the Camp Brig where the two prisoners were temporarily being held for further questioning. Eventually they would be moved on to Camp Liberty, which along with Camp Redemption at the Abu Ghraib Prison, sprung up as a result of the need to streamline the processing of Iraqi prisoners and address the overcrowding issues highlighted by the Abu Ghraib prison abuse scandal.

Despite the insanity of this mornings' attempts to question Sulayman, Lapus had made several very intelligent observations about both men; he'd spent the next few hours considering what he'd seen and heard, or hadn't heard, and decided to take a shot at talking not to Sulayman, but to the younger man, Fazul. He found the younger man kneeling on the floor in the middle of his empty cell, praying. Realizing that the man was engrossed in the Muslim _noon_ prayer or _Dhuhr_, the second of the five daily prayers, Lapus respectfully, took several steps back from the cell and turned his back to give the man a meassure of privacy. He did not turn back around until he was certain the man had rose and sat back down on his bunk.

"My apologies for having disturbed your prayers, Fazul. I can come back if you need more time."

Fazul shook his head and squared his shoulders. " I am finished," he replied softly, "but, I thank you for your courtesy."

"Afwan," he replied, then shook his head. The kid had to be all of 16 years old. He had dark hair, deep brown eyes, was tall, thin, slightly built, almost gangly and he reminded Lapus of his youngest brother when he was that age; it was just this attribute that Lapus intended to use.

"Fazul? I'm confused here, so you have to help me out. I'm confused about how you got here; I don't mean into the camp, but how did you get involved with someone like Sulayman and his group? You're obviously not one of them."

Fazul stood up angrily. "You doubt me? You doubt my allegiance to my country, my people? **To Allah?** What do you know?"

The MP had responded to the outburst but Lapus waved him back. "I know that

I'm talking to an intelligent, well spoken, obviously educated young man, who when caught red-handed with a shit load of official US ARMY documents, prayed for Allah to come to his assistance rather then spit at his captors or call them a bunch of infidels. This is serious Fazul! This is you being sent to Abu Ghraib for the rest of your life on charges of conspiracy and murder! That means your life is over!"

He peered closely at the younger man. "What are you, sixteen, seventeen? Well, doesn't matter 'cause that's it. You're gonna spend the rest of your life at hard labor, locked-up in a cell every night until you're an old man! Unless you're lucky enough and one of your cellmates slits your throat while you sleep."

He watched Fazul drew a deep breath and shook his head. "Oh, yeah. _And_ …..that's if life imprisonment is all you get. You get my meaning? _Do I have to spell it out for you for Gods sake!"_

Fazul slowly knelt on the cell floor and began to quietly sob. Lapus turned and stepped over to the table where the MP had sat observing, and poured some water from a full pitcher into a plastic cup and brought it to the cell. He knelt and placed the cup several inches inside the cell and stepped back. The MP immediately began to rise from his seat, but Lapus shook his head.

The MP relaxed and sat back down.

"Thank You." Fazul replied, when he had stopped crying, not attempting to reach for the cup.

Lapus pulled up a chair and sat in front of the cell and for a while they sat quietly.

"Y-you said…"

Lapus looked up. "I said what?"

"For Gods sake. You are a believer?"

Lapus nodded. "I don't call him Allah. Don't pray five times a day, but yeah, I believe. But not that God wants me to pick up a gun and kill someone to make him believe I'm worthy. That's not God. That's just men."

"They will kill me." Fazul said softly." For being a traitor. I did not know what they had planned to do, and then it was too late when they told me. They said they would kill my family, disgrace them. My sister is only nine. My mother is old, she has no one." He began to cry again. "I wanted her to be proud of me. This is not the way it was supposed to be."

"You made a mistake. You're young. You wanted to do something good and got caught up in it. But it's not too late to redeem yourself. To stop these men who say they are trying to help your people, who really only want to cause more bloodshed, and discord among your people."

Fazul looked down at the ground. "That other officer…."

Lapus let out a long held breath. "I promise I will try to do my best to help you. When the captain arrives tonight, you'll tell him everything. _Everything._ And I'll be there, okay? If you're willing to help us, I'm sure there is some way to help you."

"But Sulayman-"

"I'll make sure they keep you away from Sulayman, until you can be moved. And no one is going to tell him you're cooperating with us."

Fazul took a shaky breath. "I do not know everything, but there are some things I can tell you. There are also some things I do not know." He whispered. "The man in charge of who you call KAOS is named Rahman. I can tell you who else is a part of the group that planned to steal the papers."

"Fazul? What were they looking for? What do they plan to do?"

"To blow up all the military installations and take over the government."

Lapus let out a long held breath. "I promise I will try to do my best to help you."

There was the loud sound of shoes scraping on the hard packed floor as two MP's walked in and escorted Sulayman back to his cell. The older man tried to come to a stop in front of Fazul's cell. He stared at Fazul, a stare that was full of hatred and malice. He tried to take a step forward but the MP's grabbed him and began to push and shove him back down to his own cell.

Lapus turned back to look at Fazul, who had turned away in fear and refused to say anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Nine

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Sergeant Silas's Tent  
0500 That Same Day

At first the sound was annoying, like that of a buzzing insect that droned in his ear and would not leave no matter how many times he swatted at it. Groggy and very disoriented, he rolled over onto his back and when the droning began for a second time, he angrily flung his arm out and he heard a loud "WHAP!" He'd have smiled if the movement hadn't made him feel instantly nauseated.

"What the Fuck!" Lapus yelped as Silas's right hand connected with his left cheek and nose.

"HUH?" Silas said sitting up quickly. It was a bad move. He quickly slid back down on the bed.

"You jerk! You just hit me!"

"Oh. Shit. Sorry, I thought you were an insect or something annoying the fuck outta me."

"Very nice. I just wanted to see how you were feeling. Shaver says you have a mild concussion." Lapus said standing up. "Also, you should know I talked to that kid Fazul and got a shit load of information out of him. I'll talk to Baron tonight about it. If you want in on it I'll send someone to get you."

Silas rolled on his side and sat up, his legs hanging over the side of his bunk." Baron's not back yet?"

"Soon. I'll keep you posted. I'm not too worried though. Anyone tries to screw around with Baron; Mitchell'll probably kill 'em."

"Yeah." Silas said, lying back down and falling back to sleep.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Captain Baron's Command tent  
0700 That Same Day

Captain James Baron leaned back in his chair and looked incredulously at Lapus for the tenth time in the past two hours. "What exactly does it mean when you say the prisoner incapacitated Lieutenant Hunter and the Sergeant?"

"Sir, he was still restrained to the chair when he jumped at Lieutenant Hunter and struck him in the chest. He had one hand free and Silas tried to hold it behind him, but the prisoner shoved the chair back into him and he got hit in the head pretty hard with the chair, sir. He has a mild concussion, but he seems okay. The medical report from Corporal Shaver is on your desk, sir."

Baron picked up the paper Lapus had indicated and read it. "He back in his quarters?"

"Yes, sir. I spoke to him a while ago, just groggy and has a bad headache; but he has a hard head sir, he should be fine."

Baron looked up. "That he does. And Hunter?" He picked up the report but didn't read it.

"Resting comfortably in his quarters, Sir. He's supposed to stay off his feet for a few more hours and keep icing the injury."

"For a chest injury?"

"Well- Not exactly sir."

Baron let out an exasperated sigh. "Lieutenant Lapus, could you please just say whatever it is you know about Lieutenant Hunter's injury!"

"He got kicked in the crotch, sir."

Baron looked up." What?" He whispered.

"Once the prisoner was untied from the chair, we pulled him off the lieutenant, but before we could that, he kneed Hunter pretty hard in the nuts, Sir. I mean, _really _hard. I think we _all_ felt it."

"Thank You, Lieutenant," trying his best to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape the side of his mouth.

"Yes sir."

It was at that moment that Lieutenant Hunter requested and was given entrance into the tent. Lapus, being a gentleman, stood up and moved his chair toward Hunter, gesturing him to sit, and got himself another chair. Hunter glared at him, but Lapus stared him down.

"Lieutenant? You're feeling up to discussing our current prisoner situation?"

"Of course, sir."

" Good. While you and the sergeant were being treated, Lieutenant Lapus here spoke to the second prisoner, a Fazul Aljameer."

Hunter immediately turned toward Lapus and glared even harder.

" I figured the sooner we found out anything, the better we could secure the camp and secure any possible targets from insurgent forces these two were involved in, " Lapus responded. " I also thought it might help us get some info out of Sulayman since you _know_ how cooperative he is."

"Meaning?" Hunter pressed, assuming the other man was attempting to call attention to the manner in which he had been injured.

"_Meaning_, he doesn't seem to want to help himself," Lapus retorted. "I say what I _mean_ to say Lieutenant Hunter, nothing _implied_. " He looked Hunter square in the face, until the older man looked away from the force of his stare

Good for you! Baron thought to himself. Then to Lapus," Why don't you fill us in on what Fazul told you."

"The kids sixteen years old, he's got no real family, just a nine year old sister, and an elderly mother. He got involved with a group, not KAOS, but a group that called themselves patriots; said it was a group of people that claimed to be interested in strengthening the Iraqi people and the new government, more like patriots then insurgents. But some of these people were radicals and it was this handful of radical folks who formed KAOS and got him involved with them."

"Like Sulayman," Hunter asked.

"Yes, but no."

"Explain that please?" Baron asked.

"The leader of KAOS is setting Sulayman up. They don't really care if he gets sacrificed, he's a dupe, and they just used him for his ability to get inside the camp. They have him thinking that he is going to redeem himself in the eyes of Allah and die a martyr, etc, etc, but they don't care what happens to him."

"Fazul is an intelligent, well-spoken kid and they told him that they could use someone like him to help them, help them spread the word and speak to his people.

Then they moved him into the inner circle and he learned all about their plans- by then he was so involved, that when he tried to get out it was too late. They said they'd kill him."

"He said? You believe him?" Hunter asked.

"He told me that he was ordered to kill Sulayman if it looked like he might turn on them, and that Sulayman was told to do the same to him. They'd kill him and his family."

Baron shook his head. "Do we know how they came to be in possession of classified documents?" he asked, rustling the papers in front of him.

Lapus nodded. "Fazul can tell us. I couldn't get any more out of him. They were bringing Sulayman back into his cell and Fazul clammed up. He's scared. But he did tell me that KAOS hopes to squash our attempts to control the insurgent activity and eventually destroy most of the military installations, then take over the interim government."

Baron nodded. "Corporal St Claire."

"Yes sir!"

"Tell Harris I want a full detail to bring the prisoner Fazul up here at 0800 hours. I want to get a full statement from him and I want it on tape. Get a Video crew here as well."

"Yes sir," St Claire responded and left the tent to tend to his orders.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
Sunrise the Following Day

Fazul turned his body toward the first glimmers of sunlight. He hadn't expected them to permit him to leave the cell in order to complete his religious obligations, but the officer in charge had been courteous and stated firmly that as long as there was no 'mischief' he could pray outdoors with two guards present.

He had already performed his ablutions back in his cell with a pitcher of water, a bowl and towel that the MP was kind enough to give him and now he closed his eyes and imagined that he could hear the sound of the of the _muezzin,_ calling the faithful to _Adhan_ . This was the young mans favorite part of the day, when the world was first coming awake; it was then that he felt as though he could enter into a state of oneness with the world and only then did he have a full awareness of all the things which God had created.

He stood, hands raised above him. " Allahu akbar" (God is the greatest)

"Bismillah ar-rahmaan ar-raheem "(In the name of God, the Beneficent, the Merciful)

Bowing at the waist he repeated three times "Subhaana rabbiy al-'azheem" (Glory be to my Lord, the Supreme.)

Then down onto the small reed mat which did nothing to soften the hard packed earth of the small exercise area; but he had no complaints as leaned forward to press his forehead, nose, hands, knees, and toes on the ground. "Subhaana rabbiy al-alaa" (Glory to my Lord the Most High)

From his prostrate position he sensed the presence of another body and heard a grunt of discomfort as Sulayman fell to his knees beside him. The young man immediately began to panic. He had been promised that he would be protected, that Sulayman would not find out that he had given them any information. Was this a trap? He had cooperated and they had promised to help him. He carefully inched over and continued his prayers in earnest, begging Allah to hear his pleas.

When they had both risen, Fazul, following the custom of Muslims and concluded the prayer by first turning toward his right and then toward his left, each time saying "As-salaamu 'alaykum wa rahmatullah." (Peace be on you and the mercy of God)

"Peace be on me, you traitor?" Sulayman whispered coldly slowly stepping toward the younger man. " You dare to bend your knee before Allah and say the words sacred to our people when everything you have done is a sin against Allah! Your people, your country? Infidel!" he shouted. "_Kafir!_ Die with the rest of the infidels!" He pulled a long piece of metal out from under his dishdashah and before Fazul could speak, he drove the pointed end into the other mans abdomen with all his strength.

Fazul looked down in disbelief as blood began to spill out of the wound. He gasped

in pain as Sulayman grabbed the flat metal bar out with both hands and yanked it out, bits of gore clinging to it. Holding it high above his head Sulayman drove it downward, stabbing him with the pointed end yet again, this time in the chest, hearing bone and cartillage crack. He pulled it out again, meaning to stab the young man for a third time, when Fazul fell to the ground and forced a strangled cry from his throat, the blood spewing from his mouth and running down his neck and chest in dark rivulets.

"Jesus! Somebody get a medic!" The MP yelled as he and his fellow guard bolted into the yard and grabbed Sulayman from behind and tackled him to the ground, but not before Sulayman had thrown himself ontop of Fazul and reaching into his mouth, attempted to cut out the mans tongue.

A third MP ran right to Fazul. "Get a blanket out here!" he screamed. Fazul vomited and the bright red blood spewed out of his mouth staining the other mans shirt.

"Someone better get Baron over here ASAP! I mean now! And don't touch that!" Harris, the senior officer snapped at a younger man who was about to pick up the piece of metal. "Get an evidence bag and don't touch it with your hands!"

He walked over to where the officer knelt beside Fazul, the blanket that covered him was stained with blood. He was deathly pale and his eyelids flickered one, twice, and then not at all. "Damn it!" He got up and moved aside as the medics moved in, but he knew that it was hopeless.

His eyes then fell on Sulayman. "Get this piece of shit back in that friggin cell now!" That was all the other MPs needed to hear, as they grabbed and dragged the other bloodspattered man back to his cell.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Ten

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
0600 hours

Baron walked out to the small exercise area and stood looking down at the small reed mat splattered with blood. Several inches away a large pool of partially dried blood with bits of gore in it lay, already covered with dark buzzing flies. He stood there for several minutes forcing himself not gag, then turned toward the MP beside him and asked curtly "Did you take pictures for the evidence file?"

"Yes, sir, we were waiting for you to observe the scene before hosing it down."

"Thank You!" Baron snapped, walking away and back inside the holding area where Harris was waiting with Lapus and Hunter. He stared at Harris, arms folded on his chest. "You care to tell me just what the hell went on here? How the hell did they get out of their cells?" He demanded.

Harris swallowed audibly before speaking. "Apparently, the younger man asked Cooper if he might be allowed to pray outside. Since we were told he was no threat, and that he was cooperative, Cooper allowed it. He's a kid; they figured he'd be no trouble and we had two guards out there with him. What I don't know, is how the other one got out there, too. No one here owns up to letting him out."

Lapus had walked towards Fazul's now empty cell and was staring into it, but when he heard Harris' comment he turned and snapped angrily "Maybe he just slipped thru the bars!"

"That's enough of that." Baron snapped and turned back to Harris. "I want every person from this area questioned again. I want to know how he got out there and how the hell he was able to stab someone twice before anybody noticed it!" Baron shouted.

"Yes, sir."

"Where's the weapon?"

Harris turned and walked into the small cubicle that was his office and returned with a plastic evidence bag which contained the weapon. It was a flat piece of metal approximately eight inches in length and about an inch wide; one end had been rubbed on an angle on either side so that it ended in a point that was sharp enough to piece skin and do serious internal damage.

"Where did this come from?"

"From the side of his bunk, sir. The top end isn't secured to the wall and it must have been loose enough for him to pry it off, but what he used to do it with I have no idea."

"There's a whole lot you don't know, isn't there?" Lapus hissed under his breath.

Baron turned and gave Lapus a warning glance. He knew the man was angry and felt somehow responsible for the younger mans death, but this wasn't the time or place for it. He walked toward the last cell that now housed Sulayman. The MP standing guard, saluted. "Sir."

Baron nodded as he stared at the man five feet away from him. "I want this man observed at all times. He is not to leave his cell unless it comes directly from me. If he does leave it, he's to be in doubled flex-ties and to be thoroughly searched. And I mean thoroughly. Anything he has on him is to be kept as evidence and everything documented in his file."

"Yes sir!"

Baron stared back at Sulayman." It would be in your best interest to speak with us."

Sulayman turned his head slightly, making a rather harsh sound in his throat; turning, he took two steps towards the bars of his cell and hawked a large glob of spit and other secretions directly at Baron, who quickly stepped backward to avoid the distasteful projectile.

With a look of abject disgust he said, "Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah, you are being formally charged with the murder of Fazul Aljameer in addition to the charges already pending. You'll be read your rights by Officer Harris. You can request council if you wish to. Let Harris know who you wish to speak to and we'll get him here for you. Afterwards you'll be transferred to Camp Redemption at the Abu Ghraib Prison."

With that he turned and walked out of the holding area and walked directly to the Jeep beyond the chain link fence. He got in and nodded to Hunter and Lapus who climbed in after him.

"Hunter, I need you to follow up with Harris and find out who this guy wants to talk

to. If he decides to forego counsel- no, scratch that! I want someone from Baqubah to come here and speak with me, and him, now! I don't want to hear any shit later on saying he was denied counsel, or that no one knew what went on here."

"I'll get right on that, sir." Hunter replied.

"Lapus, get Silas up to speed, and then get him in to see me."

* * *

Silas' Barracks  
0730 Hours

Silas was sitting up on his bunk when Lapus arrived bearing a tray with coffee and what some misguided Iraqi baker called a breakfast roll. He placed the tray beside Silas and then sat down on the next bunk. "How's your head?"

"Goddamn hurts." He leaned forward towards his footlocker and opened the lid, which made a clunking sound and made him grimace. He dug out some aspirin, and then angrily flipped the lid closed; it made the same clunking sound again, and Lapus laughed. He sneered at the other man, muttering under his breath. "Bitch."

"You're always so nice when I come to visit you, Chris." He chuckled at the confused look on Silas' face. "Look, drink your coffee. Baron wants me to bring you up to speed on the whole prisoner/break-in situation."

"Shoot."

"Okay. After you and Hunter got hurt-"

"Hunter got hurt?"

"Yeah. You missed a good one. Bastard got kneed in the balls by the prisoner."

Silas grinned.

"Anyway, after the dust settled I went and talked to the kid, Fazul? Kid spilled his guts to me. Seems KAOS is planning an attack on all the military installations, and then intends to take over the interim government."

Silas raised his eyebrows. "That would mean they have to have other cells strategically placed and a plan to coordinate the cells. Does he know where they are?"

Lapus shook his head. "No. And forget about getting any more information out of him. He's dead. The other prisoner murdered him this morning."

"Goddamn. What the hell happened?"

"They let the kid go outside to pray this morning and some _asshole_ screwed up and let the other guy out too, even though they had orders to keep them apart. He stabbed the kid to death and tried to slice out his tongue."

"With what?"

"A piece of metal from his cell. Baron's gonna rip someone a new asshole."

Lapus was quiet for a few minutes. Silas knew the man fairly well enough to pick up on his demeanor. "John?"

Lapus sighed loud and long. "Friggin' kid was sixteen years old! He got in with the wrong people. We could have helped him; I told him I'd help him, that he'd have a chance at a life…Ah…..fuck." He looked up at Silas. "Finish your coffee. Baron wants to see us."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Captain Baron's Command tent  
0830 That Same Day

The man waited patiently in his seat as his aide came forward and opened the door of the ancient white Bentley, bowing deeply. He ignored the man as he stepped out onto the sandy ground ever careful of getting dust on his crisp white uniform and shoes. With a flick of his hand he brushed off a spot on his jacket and adjusted the shoulders before straightening his white cap and dark sunglasses. He then made an angry gesture with his arm and his aide hurried forward to find someone in charge.

St Claire stuck his head into the Command tent. "Captain? There's a gentleman here to see you from the Office of the Ministry of the Defense. Abdallah Jamshid."

"Send him in please." Baron responded, standing up and reaching for his BDU jacket.

He came forward as St. Claire ushered the man and his aide inside, and offered his hand. "I'm Captain James Baron, United States Army, Senior Officer of Camp Freedom. Thank you for coming to speak with me, Mr. Jamshid?"

"Abdallah Jamshid," the man said with the air of someone more important then he actually was. "I was sent by General Faisal Otabi, Minister of Defense. He received a message about an incident that occurred here involving Fazul Aljameer."

"Yes. Unfortunately, a lot has transpired since we contacted your office yesterday. Please have a seat, sir and I'll explain what's happened so far." He gestured to a chair.

Jamshid said something in Arabic to his aide, who immediately left the tent.

"May I offer you a cold drink, Mr. Jamshid?"

Jamshid declined and settled himself in the chair. Only then did Baron walk around to the opposite side of the table and take his own seat, surreptitiously observing the other man. He was in his forties, a bit rotund and despite his mild mannered appearance Baron sensed that this man was not to be trusted. He couldn't put it into words, it was just a gut instinct, and Baron always relied on his instincts.

"Sir, you are aware that 48 hours ago we found Fazul attempting to leave this installation with classified US government documents?"

Jamshid shook his head. "It is a _terrible_ shock! I know this young man. I know his family! For him to be in this type of trouble is just impossible to believe. You say he stole documents? Why would he do such a thing?"

"We don't know, and unfortunately, we'll never know. Fazul is dead."

Jamshid jumped to his feet and placed his hand on his chest. "No. No! This cannot be. This is terrible! Captain, how could such a thing happen here?"

'You're not a very good actor,' Baron thought to himself. "Sir, Fazul was murdered this morning by another man whom we also found trying to sneak out of the Camp with US government property. He had several U.S. government documents on his person, and several forms of ID," Baron said glancing down at the file on his desk. "His name, so far as we know, is Sulayman Abu Mazul al-Fallujah. Are you familiar with him?"

Baron watched as Jamshid's leaned slightly forward in his chair, his eyes widening briefly before leaning back again. "No, No. No, I have _never_ met this man," he said offhandedly with a wave of his hand.

"I asked if you were familiar with him, sir. Not if you'd met him."

Jamshid looked up, a look of surprise on his face, but recovered quickly." I know everyone in the town of Baqubah, but not this man. _That_ is what I meant." He replied in short clipped tones.

Baron smiled and nodded, placating the man. "We believe this man is involved in an organization called KAOS; you've heard of them, surely."

The Iraqi drew himself up in his chair. "Yes, of course, Captain. The Ministry of Defense is well aware that there are many who seek to disturb the peace brought by this country's interim government. But they are insignificant."

Baron's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry to disagree with you Mr. Jamshid, but these people are anything but insignificant. We believe these people to be responsible for as attacks on other villages in the area, including several government offices, yours, as well as those of the United States. These people went so far as to destroy a Mosque a short time ago."

"He's told you this?" Jamshid asked in a strangled voice, before clearing his throat.

"He's admitted to this?"

Baron suspected the man had been dishonest with him, but now he was certain. "We've learned several things about KAOS and their intentions, but he could be more cooperative. For that reason I'm having him shipped to Camp Liberty in the morning. The people there will get to the bottom of this, I'm sure. He'll be charged formally."

"Perhaps I might speak to him Captain? Maybe I can convince him to be a bit more cooperative?" Jamshid smiled.

"I would hate to see you waste your time on this man, sir. I think its better-"

"Please! I would like to help, Captain. My office wants to encourage cooperation with our American friends. It would set a good example." Jamshid said; then aware that it seemed like begging, he smiled again.

Baron shrugged. "If you'd like to try. Corporal St. Claire?"

"Yes,sir?"

"Would you please have Mr. Jamshid escorted to the Brig? He'd like to speak to the prisoner."

"Thank You, Captain Baron." Jamshid said as he quickly rose from his chair. "If I can be of any further assistance….."

"Thank You, Mr. Jamshid. I'll be sure to call on you. Thank you for your time." He reached over and shook the man's hand, then watched as he followed St. Claire out of the tent. He remained standing for several minutes, his fingers gently drumming on the table top, before calling St. Claire back in.

"Sir?"

"Get Harris for me, ASAP. And then see if you can't track down Colonel Ryan."

"Yes, sir!"


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Eleven

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
0930 Hours

Sulayman al-Fallujah sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, deep in thought as he awaited the arrival of his brother, Harun. He had been told by Officer Harris that a messenger had been dispatched to Harun's home in Baqubah and that they would provide an escort for his brother to come to the base to see him. Harun would know exactly who within the KAOS organization to speak to. Despite the situation being as it was, Sulayman misguidedly believed he would be released shortly.

He heard the dull thump of boots on the ground approaching his cell and heard Harris inform him that he had a visitor. It was with great happiness that he opened his eyes expecting to see his brother before him, but his joy quickly turned to shock when he saw Rahman standing several inches away from the bars.

"Sulayman. " Harris droned. "This is Abdallah Jamshid, from the Office of the Minister of the Defense. He'd like to speak with you." Harris quickly turned away and walked out toward the corridor, gesturing for the MP to follow him.

"Sulayman, it is a most serious predicament you have gotten yourself into here," Jamshid said softly.

Sulayman continued to stare at the man in the dark glasses, crisp white uniform, official cap and highly polished shoes. "Who are you?" he whispered.

"You mean you don't recognize me? Sulayman. I am hurt," he said with a cruel laugh as he removed his glasses. "I am Abdallah Jamshid, or should I say Abdallah _Rahman _Jamshid, aide to General Otabi, the Minister of Defense." Rahman laughed. " What did you take me for? Hmm. Some ignorant goat herder?" He laughed again. "But, no. I must not laugh, because as I say again, this is a most serious predicament _you_ have gotten _yourself_ into."

It was with sick horror that Sulayman realized that he was on his own. "Where is Harun?" thinking that surely his own brother would not forsake him.

"Harun cannot help you. Unfortunately, neither can I." Jamshid took several steps closer to the bars and gave Sulayman a hideous stare.

"B-b-ba- but this is your fault!" Sulayman cried. "I did as you asked me to. I did this for our cause, for-"

"You did this for yourself, Sulayman!" retorted Jamshid. "You did this thinking only of the reward you would receive. You are a disappointment to us."

The man behind the bars sunk back down onto his bed and bowed his head dejectedly.

"I am quite surprised to hear you have been so willing to divulge the secrets of our organization. We trusted you. We brought you into the fold, treated you with respect because we thought you were a man of honor. It is sad to find out this is not true."

"I've told them nothing! Sulayman hissed, jumping to his feet. "Fazul told them everything! That is why I killed him. I killed him for being a traitor to our cause!" he said angrily, but his eyes pleaded with Jamshid.

"Really? And what will you do when they take you to Abu Ghraib and you are questioned? Or tortured? Will _you _be a traitor then, too?"

Sulayman's face turned a whiter shade of pale and he breathed shakily. "I see." Jamshid replied.

"I am no traitor! You must believe me! You must help me! I wouldn't tell them anything. I'll tell them Fazul was the traitor, that he tried to get me to help him and when he attacked me, I killed him. They will believe me! "

Jamshid almost laughed out loud at the man's stupidity; stupidity could prove to be a dangerous thing. Instead, he smiled. "I can see that you are telling the truth." He said, in a voice that had an almost seductive quality. "Forgive me for saying otherwise, but I had to be sure. You are a valuable asset to us, Sulayman, much too _valuable_ to be lost. But I need some information, which only you can give me."

Just 30 feet away from the cell Harris was holding a handset to his ear. He nodded several times, ending the communication with a quick, "Yes,sir!" and placed the handset down on the desk in front of him.

"Jackson!" He hissed at the young soldier who was loitering just a few feet away from Sulayman's cell. " Get back in there! Baron wants eyes and ears in there at all times. Take notes!" He threw a pen and a notepad in the mans general direction. 'Do something worthwhile you dumbass!" The young man stooped to pick them up and sauntered back to his chair making Harris want to give the kid a good swift kick in the ass. He was in enough shit with Baron and didn't need anymore.

A thumping sound on the floor announced the return of the MP, and both Jamshid and Sulayman turned to watch him settle himself back into chair by the doorway.

Jamshid turned back to Sulayman. "Tonight, they will be moving you to another camp. Before you leave, I will send your brother to you. Go to him. He will help you."

Sulayman nodded his head and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes. Yes, I will. Thank You."

Jamshid nodded back then turned and with a brief nod of his head he acknowledged the MP before proceeding outside. He stood beside the ancient, white Bentley waiting for his aide to open the door; his only concern was the bit of dust that had blown across his shoes and marred the highly polished shine.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Command Tent  
01000 Hours

"Captain?"

"Lieutenant, come in. Sergeant Silas! I trust you're feeling better and well enough to report back to duty?" Captain Baron asked as he approached the younger man.

"Yes, sir," Silas responded. "I'm much better, sir."

"Nice to see you again…. _Sergeant Scream_."

Silas had barely noticed the other man at the opposite end of the tent until he heard the rather gruff voice, but when he turned to acknowledge him, he couldn't help smiling. "Colonel Ryan. It's good to see you too, sir."

Ryan walked forward and set the glass he'd been holding in his hand down on Baron's desk, and extended his hand towards Silas and grinned back. "Hear you got into another wrestling match with a prisoner. It's a good thing you have such a hard head, Sergeant."

"Yes sir," He said as they shook hands.

"Sergeant, Lieutenant," Baron said gesturing to the two chairs place before his 'desk'. They sat down, Ryan sitting in a chair at the end of the table, opening up a thin file in front of him. "I trust Lieutenant Lapus has brought you up to speed?" he asked Silas.

"Uh, yes, sir, he has."

"Good! Because I have an important task to be done and I think that you and your men are the most appropriate and most capable of taking care of it for me. Lately it feels like I'm charge of the Keystone Cops."

Ryan lowered his head and bit back a smirk, but not before Baron caught him in the act.

"Sorry, James."

Baron looked again toward Silas. "The prisoner, Sulayman, is to be transferred this evening to Camp Redemption at Abu Ghraib, except they wouldn't come up here to get him. I need additional manpower to assist in the transport. As this man successfully murdered another prisoner while in custody, I'm taking no chances."

"Yes, sir." Silas said nodding. "Sir? Have we gotten any additional information from him about the break in and how they were able to steal official documents?"

"No. Colonel Ryan here is going to take a crack at him, but if he wouldn't speak to us, command doesn't want him lingering here any longer then he has to. They want him sent on for processing and if they feel they need any additional information they'll send someone up here to do whatever they need to do."

Silas nodded.

"Sir? The sergeant had an interesting thought about the KAOS plan," Lapus commented.

"Well, Sergeant if you think you have anything that could be helpful, let's hear it."

Silas shook his head. "It wasn't really anything, sir."

"Oh, come on now, Sergeant! Play nice and share." Ryan said with a grin on his face.

Silas shrugged. "I just commented to the Lieutenant that if KAOS is planning an attack on all the military installations, that they must have several cells scattered all over, rather then it being only one group as we recently believed.

Ryan smiled. "And you believe that because?"

"If they really plan to disrupt the interim government, blowing up one or two installations at a time wouldn't cause enough of a disruption. But, if you took out several locations at a time, it would be a serious blow to the other side. It would cause 'chaos', sir. To take out several installations at a time you'd have to have several cells.

"Why not just one big group?"

"If you're going to launch an attack of this magnitude, you'd want people that wouldn't call attention to themselves or appear suspicious. They'd have to know the area well. To me that says locals."

"The Sergeant also believes that are planning a coordinated attack," Lapus added.

"Because?" Ryan asked again.

"The biggest impact would be to take out all the installations in one area or cut them off from the rest of the country, like all the installations around Baghdad. Or…"

"Or what, Sergeant?"

"They might want to take out specific installations country wide, like those bases with airfields."

"You can't do that without coordinating the attack, either. Again, to do that you'd have to have several cells. "Ryan agreed.

"Except how to do figure out which bases they'll hit and why?" Baron asked.

"A possible similarity in the types of attacks on the area, security breaches or similar situations to what occurred here, maybe." Silas said.

"I'd have to agree with your thinking, Sergeant." Ryan commented with an approving nod. "I'll see what else I can find out about insurgent activities around other bases and possible security breaches. Meanwhile, I'll be recommending that all military installations go immediately to high alert status, this one, especially."

"That means increasing the-" Baron began.

"Captain Baron?" St. Claire slipped his head in thru the entrance flap." I'm sorry sir, Lieutenant Hunter to see you?"

"Send him in." Baron replied. Turning back towards Ryan," I was saying that we should increase our presence in the town as well." He turned back to face Hunter.

"Excuse me sir, did I miss a scheduled meeting?" Hunter asked, with a quick glance at Lapus and Silas.

"No, not at all, Lieutenant, I was just going to brief Sergeant Silas about the detail bringing the prisoner down to Abu Ghraib."

"You'll have nothing to worry about, Sir. I'm sure my men and I will have no trouble-"

"Lieutenant, I'm actually going to need you to stay right here. We'll be increasing the security within and around the base. I'll need you to see that this is taken care of. You'll coordinate with Harris. We'll be going to full alert. I want to double the number of men we usually have on watch. I also want you to do a full review of the current security situation including any area where you feel there may be any vulnerability. For instance, the camp laundry facility?"

Hunter swallowed his anger. "Yes sir."

"Oh, and I'll need it by 0800 tomorrow morning, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir." Hunter replied.

Baron nodded. When Hunter made no move to leave, Baron replied. "That's all for now Lieutenant, your dismissed."

"Yes, sir. " Hunter replied stiffly. Turning sharply he left the tent.

Baron turned his head and looked at Ryan, who was leaning sideways watching Hunter's retreating form. He raised his head. "Is it me or is that guy seriously bow-legged?"

Baron gave him deadly look.

Behind the tent, Corporal St. Claire was sneaking a cigarette; he laughed so hard, he nearly soiled himself.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
01600 Hours

Dim sat on the back of the large truck, his long legs dangling over the side, peering upward; the sun was just about set and the sky had the quality of a water color painting, as though the fading streaks of purple and pink had been brushed across it. "Nice night for road trip, "he commented to Angel, who was sitting beside him.

"Some road trip." Smoke griped.

"Come on! Didn't you join the army so you could see the world?" Dim kidded.

"If I wanted to go back to the hood, I could go home to Compton."

"Shut up, Smoke." Silas said as he approached the waiting squad.

"Nice to see you, Sergeant." Smoke retorted." How's your head?"

The rest of the squad chuckled.

"You want me to show you? I'd be goddamned happy to demonstrate." Silas said.

"Told you he missed us." Dim said, nudging Tariq.

"Alright let's cut out the shit, and get serious," Silas said, hunkering down on ground. The rest followed, watching as he began to scratch out a diagram with his knife.

"We've got four MPs going with us to guard him. Tariq." Silas said, looking up at the young man across from him. "I'm putting you in there with them, but _only_ because you speak the language, but you _don't_ talk to him. They'll be no talking to this guy, nothing, not one word. You tell the MP's if he says anything. Anything he says gets noted in the transfer report. Got it?"

"Yes, Sergeant." Tariq nodded.

"That means be on your guard." Silas added." And that means everyone!" He shouted, looking from man to man. "This freak murdered someone this morning and I'll bet my months pay he'd love to do it again, especially if he can take an American out."

"Angel?" You and Dim are gonna be in the forward vehicle, with another MP. Dim, you and me will be in the back with a medic."

"Who gets to drive?" Dim asked, with a slight smile, knowing how much the sergeant bitched about his driving skills.

"Mrs. B and Del Rio will be driving." Silas snapped, getting up and walking back to the holding area. On his way he passed Del Rio and Mitchell and nodded curtly to them before entering the building.

Smoke started to laugh as the two woman approached.

"What?" Brenda asked.

"We don need no stinkin' MPs" Smoke said trying to affect a Spanish accent.

He began laughing hysterically.

"There's something wrong with that boy." Del Rio announced.

* * *

Silas stepped back inside and stood quietly watching Ryan with the prisoner.

"Sulayman." Ryan shook his head. "You're just not helping yourself here."

"Where is my brother, "the man in the cell demanded, "I was told he would be here! I don't talk to you until I see him."

"Well, he hasn't shown up. And even if he does show up? You're outta here. That's right Amigo! You're on your way to Abu Ghraib! You're gonna be charged with murder, conspiracy, theft of official US Government documents….gee, you're gonna be charged with the whole shit load."

He started to walk away, from the cell, and then turned back around. "I hope you like small rooms, 'cause you're gonna be livin' in one for, oh, the next 50 years."

"Pig! Kafir! Filthy American dog!"

"Ooooooh. Now that really hurts, coming from a murdering sack of sludge like you." Ryan quipped.

Sulayman hawked and spit at Ryan.

"Ya missed me." He turned towards the MP at the door. "We have any gags? Oh, oh forget it. We can just use that rag he seems to be using as a hat.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, Sulayman. Have a good trip. You got great weather for it."

He turned to look over at Silas and winked, then commented, " When Mr. Sulaymans' brother gets here, we'll need to speak with him as well and also to go into the town and round-up all the big guys buddies, family members,etc….you know the drill Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

"MY BROTHER KNOWS NOTHING!"

Ryan turned back around, and cupped a hand to his ear. "Excuse me? Sorry, I missed that. You were saying….?"

Sulayman was clutching the bars of the cell. "They know nothing!"

"Thats a **Lie**! If they know **_nothing_**, then **who** is helping you?" Ryan yelled.

"Someone….."

"Someone?" Ryan shook his head, and pressed his lips together. "Afraid I don't know him."

"Fazul! He got me involved, he threatened me. He planted the documents on me!"

"What? He stuffed them in your under shorts when you weren't looking? You're LYING to me! Ryan yelled, as he walked back towards the bars.

"No! He told me I had to take the papers out of the camp or he'd have them kill me, kill my family! "

"Uh huh…Sooooo….. some sixteen year old kid threatens to kill you and your family. Hmmm. And how did _he_ get the documents?"

"From someone here!"

"Here? In this Camp? Someone _here, _in _this_ camp gave _him _the documents? What's his name?"

Sulayman took a deep breath. From somewhere buried deep in the recesses of his mind he somehow found his conscience. He knew he would pay for the part he had been foolish enough to play, that he'd be punished for murdering Fazul. To destroy another life, was wrong. Sulayman shook his head; he looked at Ryan and whispered," I don't know who it is."

"EEER!" Ryan said, imitating a game show buzzer. "That your final answer?"

Sulayman clutched the bars and sank to the ground.

"Get this guy outta here!" Ryan snapped.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Twelve

Archive: Not without Permission of the Author

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
01630 Hours

"Group attention!" Silas shouted, as he approached the squad. The men quickly stood, when they saw Colonel Ryan one step behind him.

Ryan grinned. "Well, if it isn't my favorite squad! "He said with a grin. "At ease, men. Good to see you all in one piece, especially _you,_ Private Dumphy!"

"Yes,sir, thank you sir."

He turned towards Del Rio and Mitchell. "And these must be the two soldiers who did such an outstanding job of capturing our delightful prisoner. Hell, ladies, I need to put you two in charge of the stockade! "

"Yes sir!" Mitchell responded emphatically.

Ryan laughed. "But then you wouldn't get to see so much of exotic Iraq, would you? Anyway, we haven't gotten anything out of this clown, so you guys are good to go. Sergeant you went over the particulars?"

"Exactly as you told me, sir."

"Good." Ryan said. He quickly turned and looked behind him to see several MPS scuffling with Sulayman, whose hands were in flex ties behind him then, attached to a set of manacles around his waist. He was trying to kick at the MPs. When that wasn't effective, he resorted to spitting.

"Nasty habit that man's got." Ryan commented.

"Smoke, Angel!" Silas shouted. "Cover him!"

Both men walked over and adjusted there weapons to cover the prisoner, who suddenly went limp; the MPs continued to drag his dead weight towards truck.

Silas turned at the sound of door slamming shut and looked up to see Captain Baron, approaching. "Why aren't his legs secured? Get his legs secured now!"

"They thought it would be easier to walk him out and get him manacled in the truck, sir."

The MPs dragging him allowed him to fall to the ground, while the third dropped down to his knees and unraveled the manacles. The other two MPs held him down onto the ground, but Sulayman continued to struggle. Tariq ran over and knelt beside him, pressing his knee into his back.

The third MP was still struggling with the manacles. "Damn!" he whispered. "The links all messed up."

"What the hell is going on? Get that man secured and into that truck!" Baron yelled.

The MP holding Sulaymans' right arm turned his body towards the less experienced MP. "They forgot to spray them. Here, give it to me. You come hold this guy's arm down." He shifted his body, and leaned forward to take the chains from the other man unknowingly shoving his lower leg against the prisoners face. A moment later he was screaming, as Sulayman opened his mouth wide and clamped his teeth down on the MP's calf, hard enough to bite thru his BDU pants. "Oh Christ, get him off me!" He shrieked.

The man who'd been kneeling on Sulayman's legs lost his concentration allowing the prisoner to turn slightly, his legs flailing. He kicked out with his left leg and struck the man in the face hard enough to break his nose and the man crumpled. Del Rio ran forward and grabbed the injured man, his blood spurting all over her. She dragged him out of the way, making room for Silas to join the fray.

Tariq was screaming at Sulayman. "_IFTAH! OGIF _! " (Stop! Open up!") He suddenly reached over and grab Sulayman's nose, pinching it tightly, until the man could no longer breathe and had to open his mouth to take a breath. Tariq grabbed the MP under the arms and pulled him away.

Angel and Smoke were still covering the Iraqi who now lay on the ground sputtering and breathing heavily with Silas on his back. "Someone get that goddamned medic!" he screamed, just before he heard the report of a rifle and a bullet flew past his ear. He threw himself down on the ground beside Sulayman. ""Get down!"

Immediately the rest of the squad, Ryan and Baron threw themselves down on the ground. Baron, who was behind one of the Humvees with Ryan, grabbed his ICOM headset, and called for additional support.

Smoke had landed on the ground closest to Silas and the prisoner. He quickly moved on his forearms and knees staying as low as possible, and crawled over to them, but Silas saw him coming. "Smoke! Stay where you are."

"I'm almost there, Sergeant. I'll help you pull him behind cover!" he called back, still crawling along the ground.

"Where the hell is that fire coming from! Baron yelled. "Can anyone see anything?"

"Up by the fence line sir! Mitchell called out. There's three of them!"

"I see them from here," Del Rio confirmed. Three of them!" She was just left of Mitchell, shielded behind the large rear tire of the Humvey, the MP with the broken nose, lying dazed with his head in her lap as she pressed down as gently as she could with a clean rag to staunch the bleeding. "It's gonna be okay." She whispered to him. "Just hang in there. It's okay." God! She thought, this kids' more scared then I am!

"Smoke goddamn it, go back I said!" Silas shouted, as the other man kept coming, crawling closer and closer. "That's a goddamned order, Private!"

"Sergeant!" Smoke yelled as he watched Sulayman maneuver himself to his feet, and begin toward run toward the fence line. Suddenly the bullets were flying again.

"_IFTAH! IFTAH! _Tariq yelled.

"GODDAMN IT!" Silas screamed, he jumped up and grabbed at Sulayman, but just missed grabbing onto his clothing.

Smoke rose up onto his elbows and took aim, his sites on Sulayman. Immediately Angel and Dim followed suit and raised their weapons as well.

"No! Don't shoot him! We need him alive!" Ryan screamed at them.

"What the fuck?" Smoke said in a shocked voice. He watched as a bullet whizzed past Silas, causing the man to dodge and lose his footing, once, then a second time.

He jumped up, driving his body into Silas and knocking the man flat on the ground, and then dropped as well, but not before he took a bullet in his shoulder. He fell heavily to the ground.

The shooting stopped as quickly as it had begun, as Sulayman ran running toward the fence line, shouting "My brother, he said you would come! Praise Allah." Three other soldiers were hot on his tail.

Sulayman stopped in his tracks as a dark-hooded figure stood up and spoke to him. He took two steps backward then turned to run back towards the base, but it was too late. The figured raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
01730 Hours

Silas strode into medical unit, his clothing covered with dirt and he had an angry red scrape on his chin.

"Sergeant Silas. Long time no see," quipped Corporal Shaver, who was sitting on an unused gurney, a stack of clipboards on the bed beside him. There were large dark splotches of blood on his uniform pants and on the sleeve of his jacket. "How's the head?" he asked.

"Fine, Corporal." Silas retorted gruffly. Then relenting a bit under Shaver's close scrutiny, he said "I still have a headache. Hurts like a sonofabitch."

"Yeah. Dull headache, probably last a day or so. If it doesn't get better soon let me know. But right now I guess you're looking for the prisoner and Private Williams?"

"Yeah."

Shaver jerked his head to the left. "You're Private Williams is in there. He's okay. Lucky bastard, the bullet went right into his shoulder and sat on the other side. He's gonna be fine in a few days. Now you're prisoner?" Shaver continued jerking his head to the right, "He's not gonna be okay. He's dead."

"Shit."

"Yup. They're all there, Baron, Lapus, haven't seen your best buddy and mine…."

"Shut up, Corporal," Silas snapped as he walked towards the right.

"You got it. Be nice and I might even look at that boo-boo when you're thru."

Shaver joked.

Silas growled and walked away.

"Fuck you, Sergeant Neanderthal." Shaver muttered to himself.

Ryan, Baron, and Lapus were standing to the side of the gurney where Sulayman's body lay; he almost looked like he was sleeping, except for two very large holes in his chest.

"I don't know. I didn't see any other weapons but rifles; Del Rio, Mitchell and Dumphy said the same thing."

Silas walked over and peered past the medic. "That looks like it came from a NATO 7.62 x 51mm, most likely the West German version. Small entrance wound but huge exit wound," he commented. The all turned to face him.

"Say again, Sergeant?" Ryan asked.

"A .308 Winchester; It was used in service rifles and machine guns, like the M14 rifle and M60 machine gun late 1950s, pretty much a standard firearm cartridge among NATO countries. It also became popular among civilians."

They continued to stare at Silas.

"We were using a longer cartridge of the U.S. standard .30-06 which was difficult to use in semi and fully automatic weapons, whereas a shorter round would allow for higher rates of fire. They kept using the .30-06 after the Korean War and into the 1960s, up until Vietnam though, when we traded our M14's for AK-47's."

"Whoa." Lapus whisperd. "Mr. Wizard."

"Well that's very interesting, Sergeant." Ryan commented. " Just one question though."

"Sir?"

"How the hell did it get _here_!"

"This entire situation……" Baron began, then thought better of it. "Alright. Lets meet back at the command tent in," He looked at his watch, " one hour. We'll go over all the details for the offical report. Hunter can give us a security briefing as well."

"Yes,sir."

Baron and Ryan left the medical unit, Lapus following them out when he stopped and looked back at Silas.

"I'm gonna check on Smoke, I'll catch up with you."

"OK."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Lieutenant Hunters Tent  
1730 Same Day

Lieutenant Hunter sat on his bunk; his legs stretched out in front of him, and folded blanket in his lap. On it, and beside him, were several items that had been in the large manila envelope which had been removed from Sulayman's person earlier on when he had been discovered hiding in the Motorpool. Hunter had managed to make copies of before handing everything over to Captain Baron.

Sulayman had managed to get access to a lot of official information; there were memo's that outlined several recent missions, including those official actions by military forces that meant to roust the growing number of insurgents from the neighboring villages and within Baqubah. There were also several documents that he recognized as classified information from Battalion. There were several copies of unrelated information as well; probably someone had grabbed what they could and ran.

There were maps, including a recent one of Camp Freedom, while another map clearly showed Camp Packhorse in detail. Information on one sheet listed the approximate number of soldiers, personnel, and workers.

Hunter reached over and grabbed several newspaper clippings from articles that had been written in Stars and Stripes, as well as several from Al-Jezerah about the recent bombings.

But what was most interesting, were the letters.

He consulted his watch and realized that Silas and his squad of miscreants would have just left for Abu Ghraib; it was the perfect time to speak to Captain Baron about what he'd found out. Hunter carefully grabbed the various items and slipped them into his own large manila folder.

"Lieutenant Hunter?"

"Yes, what _is_ it?" he yelled, as corporal St Claire stepped into the tent.

"Sir, Captain Baron would like to see you right away regarding the security report."

When St. Claire didn't budge, Hunter snapped, "Well, you delivered your message, now get out!"

Only after the other man departed, he tossed the blanket aside and lift the large strategically placed, bag full of ice and carefully lifted his legs over the side of his bunk.

This time he had enough proof to prove his case.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Stockade  
01745 hours

Smoke was lying on the gurney, naked from the waist up with a large bandage and rolled gauze covering his left shoulder, his eyes partially closed. He was still hooked up to several machines carefully monitering his blood pressure and heart; a pulse oximeter was clipped onto the index finger of his left hand; A clear tube ran from his right arm up to several bags on the IV pole, administering fluids and pain medication.

Beside the gurney a female medic was making some notes on a clipboard. When she finished writing she acknowledged Silas with a smile and walked over to him, speaking softly. "He's doing very well, no damage we can see. He'll be here a few days so we can moniter for infection, then he'll be confined to base for a few days after that."

"Is he awake enough to talk?" Silas asked.

"To _talk_? Yes. But not for too long, Sergeant. He needs his rest."

"Affirmative, Sergeant." He replied gruffly, trying to hide a slight smile. She was pretty cute.

She moved two beds down and began to evaluate her next patient, leaving Silas beside Smoke's bed.

"Smoke? You in there?"

Smoke's eyes opened a bit wider. "Hey Sarge." His voice was a bit rough from the anethesia.

"Feeling no pain?"

Smoke nodded. " It's not so bad. Everyone else okay?"

"Everyone else is fine. But that's cause they follow orders, not like some pigheaded privates I know-"

"AHEM" The female medic cleared her throat loudly and gave Silas a truly nasty look.

"I'm sorry 'bout that Sarge, but……I'm not sorry."

"Yeah. I know. Damned moron. Just get better."

Smoke nodded slightly. "Slee-py." His eyes closed.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Don't Drink The Water, Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: "Over There" and all its characters belong to FX Networks and other entities that may have been involved with its production. No infringement of copyright is intended. This story was written for personal enjoyment and to share with other "Over There" fans.

Summary: Suspicions confirm that there's a traitor in their midst; Scream and His Squad fight to save a friends life.

* * *

Camp Freedom  
Command Tent  
01830 hours

Captain James Baron needed a drink. Several drinks in fact, and if it wasn't considered conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman to be drop dead drunk, he was fairly sure he'd be shit-faced by now. Needing to remain in control and appear every bit the strong capable commander he was, he settled for a glass of cold water, and then splashed a good portion of the cool water on his face. He'd scarcely wiped the water away when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Sorry, James," Ryan stated, sensing the other man needed some solitude, something certainly lacking in a war zone. "I'll wait outside if you need a few minutes to yourself," he said as he turned to leave.

"No, sir, come in." Baron said, taking a seat. "Silas go to check on Williams?"

Ryan nodded. " Said he'll be just fine, just a few days and he'll be back to regular duty. Hunter's got Silas and his squad off doing some useless shit work somewhere.

Shame Hunter doesn't appreciate his people more; he could take a lesson from his sergeant."

Baron nodded again as Corporal St. Claire, entered. "Lieutenants Hunter and Lapus wanted to know if you were ready for them."

"Send them on in." he said as they entered," Have a seat, we're gonna be here awhile." Ryan joined the others around the Captain's desk.

"So, gentleman, we have, or should I say we _had_, two prisoners, each caught with highly valuable information regarding our most recent attempts to contend with the rise in insurgency around Baqubah, as well as highly classified information regarding our future strategies. Both died while in US custody; one murdered and the other one killed by sniper fire during his attempt to escape," He gave them all a hard look. "I'd say lets look at what we _have, _if not for the fact thatwe've got jack _shit_! "

"Sir," Hunter replied, "We do actually have something." All heads turned to look at him.

"And what's that, Lieutenant Hunter?" Baron asked in a harsh voice.

"Well sir, I have the security brief you asked for, and I believe it says a lot about how this installation was breached." Hunter stated, still standing.

Baron reached out his hand for the handful of papers; he sat and skimmed the report for several minutes, before passing it to Colonel Ryan and looking up again. "Forgive me for saying so, Lieutenant, but according to this, it appears that this installation is one hundred and fifty percent secure. In fact, you haven't found one area where you feel there could have been a breach, including the laundry where we know these two dickheads got in and out."

"Sir, they both _worked_ in the laundry, they both may have been hiding there when they were discovered, but that's not how they got the information they had on their persons."

"And you know this how, Lieutenant?" Ryan asked. "Crystal ball?"

"Because someone inside this camp gave them the information." Hunter replied.

There was stunned silence.

"What the-" Lapus began.

"Sir, I was contacted by a Mr. Abdallah Jamshid, aide to General Otabi, the Minister of Defense's office–"

"Yes, I spoke with him earlier, Lieutenant. He spoke with me about the prisoner Fazul Aljameer."

"Yes, sir. He came back to speak with you afterwards and as you were unavailable and had asked me to make the contact, I agreed to speak with him. He said Sulayman would not divulge any information to him other than him being adamant about having help on the inside, as in inside this camp."

"Sulayman told me that as well." Ryan commented.

"Fazul told me the same," Lapus added, " but said he didn't know the contacts name. Sweared that Sulayman arranged that."

Baron snorted. "And I'd trust Jamshid about as far as I could throw his fat ass. I'm positive that he wasn't being honest when I asked if he knew Sulayman, so I don't know if you should take anything he said seriously, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Hunter, asked. "Of course I didn't want to believe him; I find it hard to believe we could have such a person in our midst. But, I am extremely confident that the reason Sulayman is dead, is because who ever he was working with, didn't want him saying anything to anyone, especially to keep him from give away the name of the inside source, since they still need him."

"They did seem to be trying their damnedest to shoot Sulayman, and not our people." Ryan agreed, grudgingly. "Score one point for them."

"Sir, I think once you see what was in the package he gave me -"

Ryan stood up. "What sort of package, Hunter?""

Hunter reached into his BDU jacket and removed the large manila envelope. "This envelope was given to Mr. Jamshid by Harun Abu Mazul, Sulaymans brother, when he went to his home to tell him what happened. The brother apparently found these items in Sulayman's things and handed them over to Jamshid, thinking it might show what his brother had gotten involved with."

He pulled out several items and handed them to Baron. "In addition to the classified documents we already confiscated, there are several additional documents that I recognized as classified: there were also several copies of unrelated information. I can't see why they were taken except that whoever took them, may have simply grabbed what they could and ran, planning to look them over later."

Baron looked thru the papers and passed them one at a time for Ryan to read.

"There were several maps also, " Hunter continued, " mostly of the area surrounding the camp. But of concern is a recent one of this camp, very specific in detail, even down to the buildings that have not yet been built. Another map clearly shows Camp Packhorse in detail, Camp Anaconda and FOB McKenzie, along with estimates of the approximate number of soldiers, personnel, and workers in each camp." He passed these to Baron as well.

"Shit. Silas may just be right after all. Makes sense," Ryan commented grimly." Hit everything at once."

Hunter looked at him with a confused expression.

"Silas seemed to think that KAOS is really a collection of scattered cells that will launch a coordinated attack on the bases. These camps are all in the same region."

"Lieutenant? What else do you have there," Baron asked, peering curiously at the envelope which he could see was not yet empty.

"There are a lot of newspaper clippings about the recent insurgent attacks on Baqubah, and reports regarding insurgent activity all over Iraq. One or two human interest articles about various actions to keep control of the activity. Most of them are from Stars and Stripes, but several from AL-Jezeerah based sources. All of them have comments and notes."

"There's also one or two personal items; an Army issue penknife and compass.

And, well, some personal letters that were meant to be sent stateside, in English _and _in Arabic."

Ryan's head swiveled in Hunter's direction. Lapus's look was one of stunned surprise.

Baron quickly sat up, his back ramrod straight; placing his hands in front of him, palms flat on the table, he leaned forward. "Letters to be sent stateside? From Sulayman?"

"No sir."

"Well, who the fuck do they belong to, Lieutenant?"

"PFC Tariq Nisseri, Sir."

* * *

Camp Freedom  
01800 hours  
Mess Hall

The four men were sitting around the table in the mess hall, which was filled to capacity; the conversation inside the tent took on the general mood of the camp, and rather then the usual boisterous conversation, cat-calling and laughter, the conversation was subdued. You could have heard a proverbial pin drop when Captain Baron had strode in briefly, looking for a cup of coffee.

"_We_ gotta do what?" Dim asked. "Fill sandbags? Damn! You'd think this was the ARMY or something."

"Shut up, Dim. You do what you're told to do, same as me. Hunter told me that we're gonna be increasing the sentry points along the inside perimeter of the camp. That means your ass is gonna need something to squat behind, if and when the insurgents show up for target practice."

Dim nodded and continued eating his meatloaf with gravy and mashed potatoes, chewing slowly and carefully, occasionally sighing. He swallowed his mouthful and shoveled more into his mouth, chewing and sighing again, oblivious to the stares he was getting from the other three men. After the third time, Silas lost his patience.

"Dim, what the hell are you doing?" He snapped.

"Huh?"

"Do you always chew and moan?"

"Sergeant, chewing is an extremely important part of healthy digestion. Most people don't realize that the process of chewing is actually a component of digestion, instead believing that digestion begins in the stomach, but it actually starts in the mouth-"

"Shut up, Dim. " Silas replied, shaking his head as he looked down at his tray of food. "It's hard enough to eat this shit."

"So, Sergeant?" Angel asked. They really think the insurgents would attack our bases?"

"Stupid question. Don't put anything past these people." Tariq snapped.

Angel stared at Tariq, a bit miffed at the rude response.

"Gotta go along with you there, Tariq." Silas stated pressing his lips together tightly. "Look, it may not happen but considering that somehow, someone got in here and stole official US documents, it's better that we're prepared and alert and on our guard. Its obvious we need to do better."

"Sergeant, I've been hearing that rumor again. About someone on the inside-" Angel began.

"That's bullshit. It's because we let them in here. Whether it's for work or whatever, you can't trust these damned people!" Tariq snapped again, this time louder. "I mean are we friggin' stupid? Need something else to blow up before they realize that these filthy, sons-of-bitches-"

"Whoa! Hey man, relax," Dim started, his look of shock matching the expressions on Angel and Silas's faces. All conversation in the tent had ceased and people were flatly staring.

"…don't give a fucking damn-"

"Shut it, Private!" Silas stated loudly in a firm voice. "Now!" he hissed a bit lower.

Tariq stopped and stared down at his plate, the anger etched across his usually calm and handsome face. Abruptly he stood up, and grabbing his tray, deposited its entire contents into the trash, before banging the tray down on the return cart and stalking out of the tent.

"Holy shit." Dim whispered.

Hunter excused himself with Baron's blessings, Lapus only a few steps behind.

When Ryan and he were alone, Baron opened up a locked cabinet and removed a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He turned and asked "I hope you weren't planning on leaving just yet, Casper. I can seriously use a level head right now and I need all the help I can get."

"Always happy to help you drink, James." Ryan replied with a grin settling himself into the chair, and putting his legs up on the side of the desk.

Baron poured two fingers into each glass and slid one across the table; the each sipped and grimaced as the alcohol braced them. Baron leaned back in his chair and tried to massage the large tight ball of muscle at the base of his skull. "I leave for two days and all hell breaks loose. One prisoner kicks Hunter in the balls, and knocks out one of my Sergeants, and _then _fucking kills the other prisoner. And before we can get a word out of him, he's fucking dead too! Now on top off that, I've got one of my senior officers making accusations of treason against one of the men in my company!" He bolted down the contents of the glass and poured again, this time giving himself a larger portion.

"Well, next time I'll baby-sit. I'll make sure nothing happens until you come back." Ryan deadpanned. Then He laughed loudly. "Hunter got nailed in the nads?" Holy shit! Idda paid _money _to see that!"

Baron exhaled loudly. "What the hell do you think about this shit with Nisseri? Your honest opinion Casper."

"Honest opinion? I don't think the kid's involved. That's what my gut says. He's a good soldier. He's never been a trouble maker or caused Silas any grief. But then there's the evidence Hunter says he has. There's got to be a reason why the prisoner had that stuff."

"He's had problems with Hunter before. Nisseri, I mean."

"Who hasn't?" Ryan quipped, but quickly became serious when he saw the look on Baron's face. "What?"

"He called Hunter a few choice words in Arabic for his treatment of two Iraqi women they were dealing with in Baqubah. He was sticking up for them. He found Hunter's words and actions offensive."

"Well, Hunter is offensive. And maybe Nisseri is just a polite, respectful kid, who got pissed off at Hunter's rudeness, at least that's the read I get off him. "He finished his drink and slid the glass over for a refill, accepting it back, and sipping some more.

"Look let's call Silas in tomorrow morning and fill him in. We can call Nisseri in and question him about everything that Hunter found. Make it an unofficial inquest though, so it doesn't mar the kid's record if we wind up on a wild goose chase." He took another sip or scotch and grimaced. "Where'd you get this swill from?"

"St. Claire got it. Got no idea where it comes from and I don't _want _to know," Baron said, gulping down the rest of the glass.


End file.
